


Hungry (For Your Love)

by Rose_the_Hat



Series: October Rust [4]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bottom Jensen Ackles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28293729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_the_Hat/pseuds/Rose_the_Hat
Summary: In which newlyweds Jensen and Jared learn a little more about each other and have dirty sex.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: October Rust [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938799
Comments: 10
Kudos: 61





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth installment in my October Rust ‘Verse. I apparently cannot write a short one-shot with these guys to save my life. You don't exactly need to have read the prior installments but it is recommended. This takes place immediately after White Wedding. Away from everything and everyone, the boys get a chance to let their guard allllll the way down. I hope you enjoy this side of them. 
> 
> Much appreciation to jdl71 for the beta, helpful suggestions and…the pretty banner! ♥
> 
> Title taken from the Winger song.

Jensen and Jared Ackles arrived in Aruba in the late afternoon. They were mostly quiet during the short taxi ride from Oranjestad to their villa on the coast, tired from the excitement of the wedding reception, not to mention the five hour plane ride, that they were content to watch the beautiful scenery fly by. Once they got to the villa and Jared had seen the beach (“right outside our door, Jensen!”) his excitement had come back and infected Jensen. He loved that he could do this for Jared, give him a new experience. Jensen has never been to Aruba either and he was looking forward to the things they had planned…after they got all the fucking out of their systems. 

Jensen gazed at Jared standing on the beach looking out at the endless beautiful blue and vowed he was going to buy Jared an island. He had never seen his new husband look so at peace, his back and shoulders loose and relaxed. Jensen is still adjusting to Jared with short hair. Whereas the long mahogany locks had given Jared a sort of reckless air, the short hair with the silver streaks gave him elegance and gravitas. Long or short he wore it well. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of low-hanging bright aqua blue board shorts with palm fronds and pink flamingos on them. Jensen himself was still dressed in a pair of Dior trousers and button down shirt. He had taken off his Italian wingtips before deciding to wander down to the beach after his husband.

“Those are an offense to God and man, Jare,” Jensen said of the pink flamingo shorts as he sidled up to Jared.

Jared turns to gaze at him open and fond, a crooked smile and dimple flashing. “They are kitsch and fun. I’m gay, Jense, I’m allowed to unironically like kitsch stuff.”

“I’m gay, too, Jare, remember and I have never and would never be caught dead in pink flamingos.”

Jared scoffed and tossed his head, a leftover habit from when his hair had been at or past his shoulders. “You are just less fabulous than I. Sad, really with your model good looks.”

Jensen feels heat suffuse his face. Jared who still has a body like granite, with washboard abs and chiseled chest, still thinks him sexy and handsome enough to be a model. 

“Jense, you are the sexiest man alive or dead. James Dean and Paul Newman ain’t got nothing on you. I have no idea what you see in a damaged piece of goods like me but I’m grateful everyday you do.” 

Jensen’s eyes sting and he swallows the lump in his throat. 

“I don’t know why you think you’re not hot since you hit the other side of forty five.”

Jensen shrugs, drops his head as he runs his palms down his soft, slightly pudgy middle.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jensen,” Jared explodes, scowling severely. “You are not fat.”

“I know.” Jensen does know he isn’t overweight, but he can’t help but be a bit envious of Jared’s gorgeous body. “I’ve never had abs like yours, but I’ve always wanted them. Now that I’m edging closer to fifty it’s gonna be even harder to keep in as good’a shape as I am. Is fifty too old to be considered a cub? I’m not hairy enough to be a bear.”

Jared busts out laughing. In him, Jensen sees a glimpse of the man Jared could have been if tragedy, abuse, and circumstance hadn’t twisted him into a killer. 

“You have a little hair and a cute tummy,” Jared says, laughter tapering off to bursts of adorable giggles. “I think you’re an otter.” Jared winks, “If you _have_ to label yourself. So, you wanna have some scotch and talk about what I brought up on the plane?”

A shiver runs through Jensen. He swallows thickly and nods. 

They plant themselves in loungers on the beach, the tide just starting to come in and tickle their feet. Jensen pours Jared a measure of the fifty year old Glenfiddich and himself a couple of fingers of the sixty year old Macallan. The suburb Scotches had been wedding presents from Colin.

“Oof. Damn. That is the finest I have ever had,” Jared says.

Jensen cocks a brow. “Oh really?”

“Well, as far as libations go.” He grins. “So?” Jared says, bringing the topic of discussion around. On the plane Jared had floated the possibility of a TPE for the week. Since they are totally alone, and don’t have to wear the masks they usually do, they can experiment a little more with the kinkier side of their power dynamic. 

“It sounds intriguing,” Jensen allows. He has no qualms about submitting to Jared in the bedroom, but Jensen will always balk at the idea of someone—even Jared—controlling every aspect of his life.

Jared, of course, knows him better than anyone, and before Jensen has to even open his mouth to offer any kind of counter, or explanation, Jared withdraws the suggestion. “Okay, so no to TPE,” Jared says easily. Jensen just feels like melting into a pile of goo. Jared just _gets_ him. “How about me? You have access to me whenever you want, _however_ you want for this week. Carte blanche. I’ll be your sex slave—safewords still apply. I say cinnamon and you stop.”

“That would go without saying, Jare,” Jensen says gently. It stings a little, but Jense understands the gravity of what Jared is offering—how much it scares him to give up control over his body and sex even to Jensen—and he needs to establish the safety net of safewords before he can think about letting go. Jensen is humbled every time Jared lets Jensen make love to him, treasures it for the rare gift that it is, even if they both prefer Jared to be the one in control. 

Jensen sips his scotch and a delicious idea blooms. He doesn’t have to be the one in control to be the one in control…so to speak. “So, if I say “rim me until I scream” you will…”

Jared’s eyes flash and his vulpine features go dark with desire. He licks his lips and grins. “Lick that ass ‘til you’re hoarse.” 

Jensen’s eyes roll back and he swallows, his cock rapidly swelling. “What if I want you to be completely naked all week?”

Jared throws him a wounded look. “Just be honest, you’re only suggesting this to get me out of my fabulous flamingo shorts! I always knew you were shrewd but that is positively _cunning_ , Jense!”

They both explode into laughter. Once it subsides Jared asks, “So? I’m your sex slave for the next seven days?”

Jensen sips his scotch, dirty thoughts churning up one after the other. He nods his head once. “Take off those fucking shorts, Jared.”

Jared looks genuinely disappointed as he shucks his absurd shorts. His cock is half hard and getting harder every second and Jensen fucking _wants_ it. 

“Choke me with your cock, baby.”

Jared arches a brow. “Yes, Sir.”

Jensen can’t remember the last time his throat has been so abused and Jared had about drowned him when he came, but it was as good a face fuck as Jensen has had in awhile. Maybe it’s true what they say that after marriage the sex changes but in their case it gets _better_. Jensen hadn’t thought such a thing possible. 

The sun has set and yet he and Jared are still out on the beach—or rather Jensen is still on the beach, Jared has gone inside for some reason, but he is post-orgasm boneless and sleepy. He gazes up at the black star sprinkled sky in wonder. It’s all so vast and beautiful. He wonders if there is some omniscient being that led him to Jared and Jared to him. If there is he is immeasurably grateful. Jared has brought a roundness and fullness to his life in all aspects that he had been missing. 

He hears the sliding glass door open then close and a moment later Jared is back handing him a steaming cup of something. “Mint tea with honey. Help soothe your throat.”

“Thanks,” Jensen rasps.

Jared is still naked as he sits down in his lounger beside Jensen. He lifts his eyes to the sky. “Say what you want about Texas, but it ain’t got a sky like that. At least Dallas don’t.”

Jensen takes a sip of the tea, just warm enough, and, with the honey, feels heavenly on his sore throat. “I know. Why Aruba, Jare? I don’t think you’ve ever told me why you love the tropics so much you want to retire here and become a beach bum.”

Jared ducks his head. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

Jensen reaches out to touch Jared’s forearm, catches Jared’s gaze. “No. I won’t.”

“When I was a kid, before my parents were killed, we spent a lot of time going to the hospital and nursing homes to visit my father’s grandmother. I was little and didn’t really understand what was going on. I’d do the dutiful thing and say hi to the little old lady then wander out to the waiting room or whatever and watch TV.

“I don’t know what year this was, mid to late eighties anyway. One movie that I loved, that always seemed to be on, was _Jaws: The Revenge_. Don’t laugh,” Jared says but he is grinning. Jensen himself has never heard of the movie; he knows the original certainly, but nothing about the sequels. Gleaning from Jared’s context it wasn’t a particularly good movie. Maybe they can watch it this week, if it won’t bring up bad memories for Jared. 

“It took place in the Bahamas.” Jared continues. “And I just…I was _captivated_ by the clear blue water and the sky. It was a long way from hospitals and nursing homes that reeked of piss, disinfectant, and ever encroaching death. I was maybe six or seven, so I wouldn’t have understood that then; I just knew those were sad places, and full of bad smells. The Bahamas was bright and sunny and happy and I wanted to be there.

“After my folks died and after Armstrong tried to fiddle with me, I wanted to go there to live. Just be on the beach, play in the sand, build sandcastles, and splash in the water.” He gazes at Jensen then, looking so vulnerable. 

Jensen sips his tea and digests this. Gaining a new insight into his hew husband. Jensen reaches out and takes his hand. “And now that you’re actually on a tropical island?” 

Jared lifts his head to that endless sky once more and sighs. “It is everything I’ve ever wanted, and I have the hottest guy on earth beside me to make it even better.” 

They lapse into silence then. Jensen thinks about the island he wants to buy for Jared and him to retire on. It doesn’t have to be too big. It would need an airstrip, and be close to a bigger island for any supplies or necessities. It wouldn’t need a house on it. He likes the idea of him and Jared designing a house together, made by them and just for them. A real true home for Jared because he’s either lived or squatted in tenements or at the Ackles Compound. Jared may consider the Ackles Compound home but it doesn’t have his stamp or flare on it. Their home on their island would. Thinking about making a home for Jared turns Jensen’s thoughts back to Jared’s parents.

“Jare, what do you think you’d be doing if your folks weren’t killed?”

Jared shrugs. “I wouldn’t be here with you, so it doesn’t matter. Everything in my life has led me to you so I’m okay with it.”

“You wanna sleep out here?”

“Jense, no. I love the beach and the sand but there is a nice big bed inside and we are gonna sleep on it. Let’s open all the windows for the waves though. I’d like that.”

Jensen pushes up from his lounger and holds a hand out to Jared. Jared stands and takes it. 

“But I want your ass for breakfast,” Jensen says and strolls into the house.

Jensen licked his lips as he gazed down at Jared, asleep beside him; arm tucked under his pillow the other thrown carelessly out across the bed. The sheet had been completely kicked off revealing all of that powerful beautiful leanly muscled body; the back so broad, shoulders so wide, waist and hips narrow, legs long and strong, and his _ass_. Jensen bit his bottom lip. His ass was perfection, a work of art worthy of the Louvre, so pert and cute, round and tight. It was rare he got to give it the attention it deserved, but this morning he was going to _worship_ it. 

Jensen knew better than to just touch Jared below the belt while he was asleep or his attention was otherwise diverted. To do so could bring hurt, a big hurt. He laid a hand on Jared’s back, near his shoulder blades. He felt the muscles tense for a fraction of a second, and then relax. Jared sighed and cuddled his pillow tighter. Jensen pets Jared’s back, light caresses with his fingertips, feeling the dips and valleys of the hard muscle beneath the silky soft skin. Jared gives a sleepy chuckle and tries to wiggle away.

“Ticklish, baby?” Jensen feels a smile tugging up his lips. He bends and kisses the knob of bone at the very top of his spine. “I distinctly remember you offering to be my sex slave all week.” He kisses the next two knobs of Jared’s spine. 

“Yours to command, my King.”

“’Member what I said I wanted for breakfast?” he kisses even lower down Jared’s elegant spine. Jared smells like sand and saltwater. 

“Something about my ass.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jensen says kissing the hollow of Jared’s spine. “This okay? You’re green?” Jensen has to check in, even if Jared feels loose and relaxed under him that’s not necessarily indicative of Jared’s mental or emotional state. 

“I am but a slave,” Jared says, his tone is light and happy. 

Jensen won’t go on with his plan to eat Jared out for breakfast until he has his full consent. He rises up, lifts his eyes from Jared’s tantalizing ass. “Jare, I need to hear the word,” Jensen says gentle but insistent.

Jared’s eyes connect with Jensen’s and blaze with hunger. “I’m green, Jense. Hunter green, Kelly green, sea green, the fucking Grinch, jade, shamrock, grass, emerald, olive, money, _your eyes_. Green, green, green! Now, eat my ass!” He spreads his thighs and flexes the muscled cheeks of his ass.

Permission very firmly given, Jensen moves down between Jared’s spread thighs and gets comfortable, laying flat on his stomach, elbows supporting his weight. He starts by planting wet-open mouthed kisses all over Jared’s ass. Jared makes a little impatient sound and wiggles his ass tantalizingly. Jensen grins as he parts the firm flesh to expose the dusky pink hole in the center. 

Jensen eases into it, planting wet kisses around Jared’s hole, moving closer, to the center. Once he reaches his target, his licks little gets stuck lapping little stripes over Jared’s hole. Jared sighs and spreads his legs further in invitation. He licks and kisses around the perimeter, moving ever closer to his target.

"Taste so fuckin’ good, Jare. Mmm," Jensen sighs. 

Jensen is no stranger to rimming, he enjoys eating ass as much as the next man, watching your partner writhe and moan on your tongue, so fucking hot. When that partner is Jared? Hotter than the sun. That thought in mind, he presses his face firmly into Jared’s ass and gets to work, licking with purpose, sucking, scraping the sensitive skin with his teeth. His using the flat of his tongue in long licks or swirling around the edges with the very tip of his tongue; changing up his technique to keep Jared guessing and keep him moaning. God, the moans, the breathy little cries are better than a philharmonic. Only Jensen can do this, only Jensen gets this special privilege to see Jared like this, to _hear_ him like this and it has him hard enough to hammer nails. His cock drooling a thin string of precum stretching from the tip of his cock to the sheets.

“Fuck, Jense. Your mouth your perfect _perfect_ mouth. Oh, _Christ_!”

There is a warm salt-scented breeze blowing in through the open windows, the sheer curtains billow out and the only sounds are the gentle lapping of the waves, Jared’s moans, and the filthy slurps and smacks of Jensen eating Jared’s cute ass. Jensen loses track of time, completely absorbed in giving Jared pleasure. Gradually the tight muscle twitches and loosens under Jensen’s continued oral onslaught. He won’t push inside, but he wets his first two fingers with his copious precum and rubs against Jared’s perineum for a little extra pleasure and sensation.

Jared growls, rises up and pushes his ass back into Jensen’s face. So fucking hot getting Jared to let go like this. 

“Yeah, baby, ride my tongue,” Jensen orders with his mouth pressed to Jared’s hole. 

And Jared does, he arches his back and bucks his hips, pushing back onto Jensen tongue, face firmly buried in Jared’s luscious ass. 

Christ this shouldn’t be as hot as it is, shouldn’t have Jensen on the edge of coming but it does, Jared’s moans, his utter abandon in his hips, his dark masculine scent pervading Jensen’s nose; sweat, seawater, testosterone, and lust are too potent of a cocktail.

Jared makes this high frustrated little whine. Jensen pulls back and catches Jared jerking his cock.

“Don’t!” Jensen puts a little Big Boss Man in his voice and gives a hard smack to that perfect ass. The muscle bounces prettily and the skin pinks up in the shape of Jensen’s hand. “Get your hand off that cock. That is _mine_ to play with this week and I don’t want you coming yet. Understand me, baby?”

“Y-y-yes, Sir,” Jared says breathless. He stops stroking his cock and grips the sheets so hard his knuckles bleed white. He’s panting and shuddering, trying to keep control.

“Know who does get to come? Me. All over this gorgeous ass.” 

Jensen curls his hand around his cock and strokes himself hard and fast, giving a little squeeze on the head. Jared turns his head, and Jensen can see how pink his cheeks are, his mouth open and panting. 

His balls pull up and his cock erupts. Jensen moans and shudders through his orgasm, watching streaks and drops of pearly white cum paint Jared’s ass and thighs, a string even goes up his back. It’s satisfying in some deep primal way to see his release all over Jared. 

“Oh fuck,” Jensen groans, milking the last few drops from his balls, slapping those cum-streaked cheeks with his cock even as he becomes too sensitive and starts to soften. “Mmmm.” Jensen smears his jizz into Jared’s skin. He gathers up a streak on his finger and plunges the digit into Jared’s gasping sighing mouth. His lips close around it and suck Jensen’s finger clean, eyes blown with desire and pleading. 

“Good, boy,” Jensen purrs but his regret is instant when Jared’s face closes up and color drains from his face. 

“Fuck you!” Jared is up off the bed, like a shot, and shoving Jensen so hard he falls from his kneeling position off the bed and onto the floor, banging his head pretty good. Jared stalks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. A second later the shower comes on. 

Jensen pulls himself up, rubs the sore spot on the back of his head and stares around bewildered. _What the fuck? Why…?_ Is Jared mad because Jensen wouldn’t let him come? Because Jensen made him eat his come? None of that made sense. Jared _liked_ to eat Jensen’s come, and, while orgasm denial isn’t something they really partake in, Jensen figured it would be fun to edge Jared and let him come when he ordered Jared to fuck him out on the beach. 

Jensen isn’t sure if he should go into the bathroom with Jared or not. That look on Jared’s face, Jensen has seen it a time or two before, usually before Jared kills someone. He knows Jared though. Understands that any emotion Jared is uncomfortable with he turns into anger because anger he can deal with and express. Jensen has obviously said or done something to upset Jared in some way, which would be the last thing that Jensen would ever want to do. He decides to let Jared alone. 

He grabs a robe, wraps it around himself, and heads into the kitchen to make some coffee. Making coffee takes only a few minutes and Jared is still in the bathroom. Jensen sighs and his gaze falls on the paper bags full of groceries that the property manager arranged delivery of. Some things have already been put away, going by the fresh meat, fruit, and vegetables already in the fridge. Jensen puts the items away all except the alcohol, a couple of bottles of Captain Morgan, a bottle each of Coconut and Banana Malibu, and two bottles of Petron. Fifteen minutes pass and Jared still isn’t out of the bathroom. Jensen, at a loss for what else to do, scrambles some eggs to make them a couple of omelets. 

Jared walks into the kitchen just as Jensen is plating a second omelet. He is dressed in low hanging knit pants and a tight t-shirt. His short hair is still wet from his shower and slicked back from his broad forehead. Jensen can see his eyes are red. He feels like utter shit for upsetting Jared so much he cried. He hopes to God this isn’t one of those times Jared buries his hurt deep and tries to ignore it. Jensen wants to help.

Jared sits on the stool at the breakfast bar and brings one of the plates with the huge omelet on it towards him. “I’m not mad at _you_ , Jense,” Jared says taking up a fork.

That makes Jensen feel a little better, but he needs to know what set Jared off. He wonders if Jared himself even understands. He wants to touch Jared but isn’t sure that is the right thing to do now. Jared, when he’s upset, is like a bomb; though Jensen usually knows how to diffuse him, this is different. “I’m sorry, Jared, for whatever I did,” Jensen rushes to say. 

“It was the ‘boy’.” Jared’s lips curl into a snarl and his eyes flash. “Calling me a “good boy”. Don’t….don’t _ever_ do that again.”

“No. Never. Understood.” Jensen knows this has something to do with Jared’s prior molestation or his history of being a hooker. He can feel the tension radiating off Jared in waves. He won’t ask. Jared will talk about it in his own time, but Jensen also doesn’t want this to happen ever again. He needs information but he needs to tread lightly. “Is there anything else you don’t want to be called or me to say?”

Jared shrugs and color rises in his face. “I’m okay with most dirty talk, Jense. Just not “boy”.” 

“Jared,” Jensen presses gently. “You said “most” dirty talk. Please tell me what you don’t want to be called. I don’t want to get into another scene and trigger you. You’re fucking scary—even to me—when you lash out.”

Jared’s face melts into one of remorse. He drops his fork with a clatter. “Did I hurt you? When I pushed you? Oh God. I’m sorry.”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” he ignores the ache in the back of his head, the ache in his heart is worse. “But you are very capable of it, especially when you are reacting and not thinking. So, please, talk to me. What don’t you want to hear?”

Jared takes up his fork again and shovels in more of his omelet, but keeps his eyes averted. “Humiliating stuff: bitch, boy, whore, slut. Johns used to do that, as if them using my mouth or ass wasn’t humiliating enough, they had to degrade me further with the names. Not that getting fucked is humiliating,” Jared is quick to say.

He sits beside Jared and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. “It was for you in those circumstances, I understand, Jared.”

“I love anything we do, everything we do, because with you everything is different. I never thought you calling me boy would upset me like that.” 

“It’s okay. You couldn’t lash out when you were young, but you can now, so; you did. Do you want to stop the sex-slave thing we had going on? Or maybe take a break?”

“Take a break for today,” Jared says with his head bowed and in a soft quiet voice.

Jensen gives Jared’s hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “’Kay.”

“Did you make these?” Jared motions to the half eaten omelet on his plate.

“Yeah,” Jensen smiles and now that things seem to be back on an even keel between them he digs into his own. It would never be featured on the cover of Saveur Magazine but it was very tasty. Jensen has been catered to all his life and really only has an understanding of cooking, but he had done his best and it turned out pretty good. He’s actually a little proud Jared’s really enjoying something Jensen made himself. 

“You been holding out on me all these years, Jense? You can cook?”

“No, not at all. I just…saw the eggs in the fridge, and, well, can’t be hard to cook those, so I gave it a try.”

Jared finishes off his omelet and wipes his mouth on a paper napkin. “Coulda been a chef in another life.” He kisses Jensen’s cheek. “I can cook, too, I’ll have you know,” Jared says, but the mischievous glint in his eyes puts Jensen on his guard. 

“Oh? And what can you make? Ice?” Jensen smirks. Although he knows Jared probably does have some rudimentary cooking skills having had to look after himself most of his life. 

“How did you guess? Yes! I know how to make ice for…” he grabs the bottle of tequila. “Margaritas!”

Jensen thinks this might be a very bad idea.

Jensen watches in drunken bemusement as Jared frolics—there is no other word for it—naked on the beach. Jared had made them two pitchers of Margaritas—pouring heavily on the tequila—they got a little handsy when applying sunscreen—SPF 100 for Jensen—and then went down to the beach to catch some sun. Before, however, Jensen had given Jared an extra pair of plain sunshine yellow board shorts to wear instead of his pink flamingo patterned pair. 

After a couple of big margaritas Jared wandered down to the beach to build a sand castle. Jensen had gone into the kitchen to scrounge some building tools for him. It was just a pasta pot and spoon but Jared went to work eagerly with them and Jensen returned to his lounger and got steadily drunker. _Noooo_ , Jensen amends. He is not drunk. A little tipsy… _maybe_. No. Intoxicated. That was a classy word for it. He might be a little _intoxicated_. He snorts into his glass as he empties it. 

Jared upends the pot packed with damp sand, carefully tapping all around it, before lifting it slowly off, revealing a pot-shaped tower. Jared lifts a fist triumphantly in the air. Jensen gives a little golf clap. Jared flashes a proud dimpled grin and gets to work carving out windows and a door, eyes glittering with happiness and pink tongue poked out in concentration. He is completely adorable, and Jensen feels himself falling deeper in love—if it was even possible. This happy carefree—drunk!—man is a side of Jared Jensen has never seen before.

However, either the sand isn’t damp enough, or Jared carves too deep, and his castle crumbles. Jared’s shoulders slump for an instant before he rallies and spoons sand back into the pot, not to be deterred. Again and again he tries, and again and again his little castle falls. After four attempts, and another glass and a half of margarita, Jared finally gets fed up. 

“Fuck you, sand!” Jared shouts and pushes to his feet. “S’fuckin’ hot!” He shucks out of the yellow board shorts before weaving unsteadily down to the lapping waves, leaving his sad little sand-pile castle behind. 

Sand castle. Jensen snorts. What it was in actuality was a _sad_ castle. He was a goddamn lyrical wordsmith while intoxicated. It was a sadcastle, but Jared had tried hard to build it. 

“Awww, Jared!” Jensen calls after his husband. “I think it’s cute! Looks just like Hogwarts!” Hogwarts after the Battle, maybe, but he keeps that to himself, just like he’ll keep to himself the fact that he likes Jared’s pink flamingo board shorts. 

Jared turns and flashes a grin. It makes Jensen’s heart swell. 

He poured another salt-rimmed glass of margarita and watched Jared jump and skip through the lapping waves, kicking up sand and water. His booming laugh reaching him and making Jensen smile. It was wonderful to see him like this. Jensen himself was happy to let go of his rigidly held control and get shitfaced as well. No, that was incorrect. He was _not_ shitfaced. He was getting steadily more _intoxicated_ , although he was doing it very manfully and stoically, as he did all things.

Tired of frolicking Jared staggered back up to the palm they were sitting under and went splat right onto his sad crooked little sandcastle. “I broke my castle,” Jared said, sounding genuinely heartbroken.

Jensen can’t even make fun of him for it because he feels bad his husband is upset. It was a sadcastle but Jared had tried hard to build it and all he had to work with was a pasta pot and spoon. Now Jensen feels even worse. He was a bad bad husband. He whisks Jared away to a beach and doesn’t even think to get him a shovel and pail so he can make a decent sandcastle. 

“We,” Jensen said and downed what little of his latest margarita was left in his glass, “can make a new one! A better one! With a moat!” Jensen tried to push up from his lounger, but didn’t quite get his feet under him and went sprawling face-first into the sand. Oh. He might be a wee bit more intoxicated than he thought. Jared, the very noisy _drunk_ , laughed at him. Laughed? No. The drunk bastard _brayed_ like a donkey. Well, he could just forget about that shovel and pail now!

“Immernatn’l phlebotomist Jens’n Cackles falls on his hans’um face on th’ beach. Footage at elev’n,” Jared slurred. “You bastard! You drank the last of the marg’ritas! I made those!”

Jensen flopped over onto his back. The sky was very blue and the palm fronds seemed to be spinning. He was definitely very very intoxicated now. “Least you c’n make som’thin. Can’t make a san’cass’le.”

“Hey!” Jared barked back. “You said it was cute! Jus’ like Hogmarts! You said!”

Jensen struggled to push himself up onto his elbows and focus on Jared who was pouting cutely in his lounger, empty margarita pitcher in hand. “ _You’re_ cute,” Jensen said. “And naked. Better put some sun’creen on your balls.” This sent Jensen off into gales of laughter for some reason. 

Jared cupped his vitals looking horrified. “My balls! Don’t burn my balls!” He shouted at the sky. He tried to get up from his lounger, probably to find the sunscreen, but only ended up flopping face first into the sand next to Jensen. 

“Hi!” Jared said gazing dopily at him.

“Hi,” Jensen said he felt an answering smile on his own lips. “I’ll put sunscreen on yer balls.”

“Think we might be drunk, Jense,” Jared said and began to laugh hysterically. 

That sent Jensen off into another shrieking gale of laughter of his own. “ _You_ are drunk. Absoulmly shitfass’d. I am merely _intoxicated_.” He groped and found Jared’s hand and took it. “I’on wanna move. Grounds all wibbly wobbly,” Jensen said. “Can’ walk.”

He didn’t like the idea of Jared getting his nuts sunburned. He valiantly stripped off his board shorts—classic navy blue, no garish patterns for a classy bastard like him—and tossed them to Jared. “Put ‘em on. Cover yer balls. I like ‘em and don’ wan’ ‘em burned.”

Jared took the shorts and stared at them, then, to Jensen’s horror, began to cry. “But what about _your_ balls! Jared wailed, waving the blue shorts like a flag. “Your balls are better’n mine.” He shoved the shorts back to Jensen. “Put ‘em back on!” 

Jensen looked between his legs. His balls were nice, round and tight. He looked over at Jared. His balls were absolutely _magnificent_ , big, heavy, low-hanging, but not saggy, and dusted with hair. His mouth flooded with saliva. He flopped over; face planted right between Jared’s powerful spread thighs, intending to pay tribute to those balls only to get a mouthful of sand instead. “PLAH!” Jensen spat, looking accusatorily at Jared’s balls. 

“What’r you doin’?” Jared asked. 

“Wann’d to suck your balls. Got sand ‘stead. That was mean.”

Jared reached out and petted Jensen’s head. “Mayb’ when we’re sob’r.”

“No!” Jensen said petulantly. “I wanna suck y’balls and I’m gonna suck ‘em!” He sort of crab-crawls closer to his prize. He runs his hands up Jared’s long tanned legs caressing them, feeling the wiry hair tickle his palms. He opens his mouth to tongue one of Jared’s balls and again gets sand. “PLAH!” he spits again and struggles into a seated position. “No fair. All this goddamn sand!” he smacks it with a palm. “Fuck you, sand!” 

“S’okay, baby. You c’n suck ‘em lat’r.” He pats his very nice balls. “They’ll still be here. Wan’ more drinkies? I c’n make more.”

“Nah. We’re wayyyyy too drunk as it is,” Jensen says having a moment of clarity. 

“Hmpf,” Jared says dismissively. He crawls over to his lounger. 

Jensen watches him, stares at his tight round ass and those big, big balls. He looks down between his own legs at his limp cock and sighs. No action there. Not even a twitch at that beautiful sight. Bad tequila! 

Jared sprawls into his lounger, eyes closed. Jensen gazes at him in all his naked thick lengthy cock and big-balled glory. His heart clenches. He loves that man so much. He gazes up at the sun in accusation, flips it off, and then struggles to his feet. He cannot let Jared’s perfect balls get sunburned! If they get sunburned they will hurt and if they hurt he won’t be able to suck them! And he wants to suck them. He’s gotta find Jared’s cute pink flamingo shorts! Fuck those ugly piss yellow ones he had Jared put on earlier. 

He stumbles, falls down, and gets back up. He falls again going up the three deck stairs. He staggers around the villa, trying to find the cute flamingo shorts Jared had on a couple of days ago, but it won’t stop spinning. He falls down in the kitchen. “Motherfucker!” Jensen curses and struggles up to his feet. He needs to find those shorts! Jared’s balls need to be covered!

He finds them in the bedroom, near the en suite. He picks them up, races through the villa, and back outside. He falls again going down the stairs and splats into the sand. “Goddamn it!”

He crawls over to Jared and slaps the board shorts on his chest. “Found em!” Jensen says triumphantly. “Put ‘em on! Protect your balls!” He cries. 

Jared pops one eye open to look at the shorts. “Aww, my f’mingos!” He briefly hugs them to his chest before struggling to get his legs into them and pull them up over his hips. 

Jensen is sad when Jared’s meaty cock and big balls are out of sight but happy the sun won’t be able to burn them. “I love you, Jen’sn.” Jared gives him a sloppy tequila flavored kiss and Jensen returns it with equal fervor. 

Jensen struggles back into his own board shorts and flops into his lounger. “Le’s mellow out.” He finds his shades in the sand and pops them over his eyes.

“I’m mellow,” Jared slurs. “Sleepy, too. Suns all warm and the,” he yawns. “waves ‘r nice.”

Jensen closes his eyes, limbs feeling loose and heavy, the lounger cradling him. “Nice,” Jensen echoes.


	2. 2

Jensen is pulled from his alcohol-induced sleep by the sounds of agony. His head feels two sizes too small for his brain, could be why there is a jackhammer behind his eyes, to help his aching brain escape. Oh God. _Everything_ hurts. He thanks fuck he still has his shades over his eyes, but as dark as the lenses are, the sun is still bright in the clear blue sky and it feels like the rays are stabbing his retinas. The sun has moved across the sky and the palm tree was not providing much shade. His watering eyes locate Jared bent over and heaving his guts up into the pile of sand that was Jared’s attempt at a sandcastle making harsh coughs, gagging, and whimpering moans.

His own guts roil and his gorge rises. His own upchuck imminent, he lunges out of his lounger and hits his knees next to his new husband. His sunshades fall from his face. The wind shifts and the smell of mostly used fucking tequila wafts over to him and he vomits up what feels like a gallon of the stuff himself along with a side of digested omelet. The sight makes Jensen hurl again. Oh God that does not help his pounding head. Nor does the sunshine reflecting off of the clear blue water. 

“Oh fuck,” Jared moans, clutching at Jensen. “Jense? You okay, baby?”

Jensen heaves again and brings up more tequila, eggs, and bile. He can feel Jared’s hands on him soothing down his back.

“Oh Jesus,” Jensen moans as his eyeballs feel like they want to pop out of their sockets and his head explode. 

“Jense? Baby?” Jared sounds scared and that pulls Jensen from his misery enough to lift his head and reassure his husband that he’s just horribly hung over.

“Shound’ta had margaritas for breakfast,” Jensen says thickly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Jared gives a weak smile. He holds up a pedantic finger. “Technically, we had omelets for breakfast. Oh, fucking Christ, my head is killing me.”

“This is another reason I don’t fucking get drunk. The hangover. Oh God. I wanna die.” 

“Don’t say that,” Jared says, fingers digging into Jensen’s bicep. Jared pushes to his feet and hauls Jensen up. The world turns sickeningly and he gags but nothing comes up. “Let’s sleep it off.” 

They slowly trek into the villa, which is blessedly dark. Jared tucks Jensen into bed. He disappears for a few minutes before coming back with tall glasses of icy water and pills. “We drink these and take those.” He hands Jensen the glass of water and three Tylenol. Jensen pops the pills into his mouth and chugs the water. Christ, that feels good. Jared does the same before climbing into bed and cuddling Jensen close. 

“’m sorry I got you drunk.”

“s’okay. I’m sorry you face-planted onto your cute sandcastle.”

Jensen drifts off to sleep with Jared’s quiet laugh.

When they wake up again, Jensen’s headache is gone, but there is another pain making itself known all over his chest, arms, and legs. He sits up, hisses as the sheet rakes against….Oh shit. His sunburned skin.

“Jense?” Jared says sleepily. “S’wrong?”

“I should’a put on more sun block.” He moves gingerly and clicks on the bedside lamp. The skin of his chest, shoulders and legs are a very vibrant pink and radiate heat. Goddamn this fair skin of his. Jensen notices irritated that Jared is just a darker tan, bronze instead of gold, than he was before. 

“Oh, baby,” Jared says, skims his fingertips down Jensen’s chest. 

“Ahh!” Jensen hisses away. 

“I’m sorry.” He grabs his phone and begins tapping away. “Think there is any aloe in this place? If not I can head into town for some. The agent said there’s a Jeep here for us to use. Google says oatmeal will help.” 

Jensen smiles, that’s Jared ready to go into action and help him however he can. “Is my face sunburned, too?” Jensen asks, because it doesn’t hurt.

Jared examines him, hazel eyes soft with concern as they move over Jensen’s face. “Nah. Your neck looks fine, too. Saved by the palm tree. But I bet if we’d have stayed out there any longer we’d both be in a world of hurt.” Jared climbs out of bed, and heads into the master bath. Jensen can hear him sorting through things in there. “Ah-ha!” He comes back out with a green bottle of aloe. “How about I rub-a-dub-dub some of this on you then I head into town for some sunburn provisions; then, we get you in a cool bath?”

Moving slowly he props himself up against the headboard. “Sounds like a plan.” Jared nods his head and pops the cap on the small bottle of aloe, squirts a generous portion on his hands and applies it to Jensen’s pink and stinging chest and shoulders. Jensen hisses at the first contact; the aloe is cooling, but Jared’s hands on him feels like sandpaper. Jared makes small soothing shushing noises as he applies another coat of the gel across his chest and belly then his legs.

“Better?” Jared asks wiping his hands on a towel. 

Jensen nods. He’s aggravated with himself for not applying enough sunscreen. Now, he’s not going to be able to tolerate Jared touching him...on their fucking honeymoon. It feels like the end of the world. Technically they haven’t even consummated their marriage yet. He doesn’t think a facefucking and rim job count. 

“S’wrong?” Jared asks, he’s throwing on some khaki shorts and polo shirt and stuffing his wallet in his back pocket. 

“I’m sunburned and miserable, Jared,” Jensen snaps. 

Jared drops his head. “I’ll be back with sunburn remedies.” He tries to sound cheerful but it’s forced. This isn’t Jared’s fault; plus, he’s going out for things to help Jensen feel better and Jensen has needlessly hurt him with his shortness.

“I’m sorry, Jared. Thank you.”

Jared nods. “Be back soon.”

Jensen gingerly makes his way into the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth. That makes him feel more human, if not better. He lies back down. He kicks off the top sheet and duvet because they hurt his skin. He knows Jared is probably blaming himself for Jensen’s sunburn. It’s all on Jensen. He knows he burns easily. He’s the one that didn’t apply enough sun block, and he’s the one that got so drunk he passed out. He doesn’t know what pisses him off more: the fact that he allowed himself to get sunburned, or the fact that they haven’t properly made love yet and won’t be able to until his sunburn heals. This whole thing sucks out loud.

He must fall into a doze because he starts awake at hearing rattling around in the kitchen. 

“Jense!” Jared calls. “I brought food.”

Jensen glances at the clock and sees it is early evening. The sun was beginning to go down, filling the bedroom with a fiery orange light. The waves are crashing as the tide starts to come in. He pushes himself up and climbs out of bed, hissing as every movement causes pain. He sighs and scrapes a hand through his hair, feeling the grit of sand. They probably tracked sand all through the house when they stumbled in, there’s probably sand in the damn bed. He ambles across the bedroom, heading toward the hall. Now, that his hangover has dissipated, he’s kinda hungry.

“Whoa, Jense, where are you goin’?” Jared asks, appearing in the doorway, a plastic shopping bag dangles from his fingers. His eyes sadden as he takes in Jensen’s sunburned skin and the way he holds himself stiff and arms away from his body.

“You said something about food. I’m hungry.”

“It’ll keep. Let’s get you into a cool bath. Get you a little relief.” He pats Jensen on the ass, nudging him into the en suite. 

It’s spacious, not as spacious as theirs at home, but clean and nice. The white marble floor feels heated and is a nice contrast to the black marble double vanity. The fixtures are sparkling chrome. There is a bidet, frosted glass shower with a huge rainfall showerhead, and the freestanding oblong-shaped soaking tub Jared was currently filling up. 

Jensen’s thankful that he’s only in board shorts, but they still scrape going down his legs, and he hisses through his teeth. He kicks them away, then, turns to poke through the pharmacy bag on the vanity. It appeared like Jared had swept an entire aisle of skincare products into the bag. There were at least three kinds of lotions, four or five kinds of aloe, some little brown bottles of essential oils, a few boxes of oatmeal looking stuff—not Quaker or anything like that, this was some specialty stuff just for sunburns—hydrocortisone cream and other healing ointments. 

Jared leaves the tub to fill and rummages through the bag for a little bottle of oil and the oatmeal stuff. “Got anything that looked like it could help,” Jared comments. He opens a couple of envelopes of oatmeal and dumps them into the bath, adding some sort of fragrant oil. “Google says lavender oil can help.” He shrugs, turning off the taps.

Jensen’s heart clenches. No one takes care of him the way Jared does. Jensen examines himself in the mirror. Jared was right, his face, neck, and upper part of his chest are unharmed, but below his collar bone his skin is a deep pink but not quite the ominous lobster red of a severe burn. It’s not as bad as it could have been, but it’s going to put a real damper on their lovemaking for the next few days.

“Here, babe. Test this.”

Jensen dips a hand in the water, swirls it around. Cool but not frigid. “It’s fine. Fucking ridiculous getting sunburned because we got drunk.” Jensen lifts one pink leg, then the other into the cool soothing water. He expected to flinch at the temperature but it felt good on his burned skin. He carefully lowers himself all the way into the tub, feeling some of the heat leech out of his skin. 

Jared sat beside the tub, gazing at him with sad, remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry,” Jared says.

“Don’t be. I should have put more sunscreen on. Jared, I know how you are. Don’t blame yourself for this. _I_ got drunk. _I_ passed out, and because _I_ have fair skin, I burned.” 

“I made the—”

“Jared, what did I just say?” Jensen puts some authority in his voice. “ _I_ chose to drink too much. Not everything that happens to me is your fault. I have agency over myself.”

Jared still looks a little conflicted but his features smooth out and he plays in the water. He positions himself behind Jensen and scritch-scratches his scalp with those long fingers and well-manicured nails. Jensen shivers, not because of the water but the little tingles of pleasure that race down his spine. 

“Wan’ me to wash your hair? Give you a shave?”

Jensen opens his eyes, tilts his head back to gaze at Jared. “That would be great, babe.” He puckers his lips, and smacks them obnoxiously, asking for a kiss. 

Jared chuckles and presses their lips together. “Shave stuff in that little Gucci bag?”

“Hmm-mmm,” Jensen confirms.

He drifts and listens to Jared bringing in their respective bags of toiletries, and unpack them. He hums softly, almost absently, as he works. After a minute Jensen places the song: _Run to the Hills_ by Iron Maiden. He grins. 

“Kay, I’ll wash your hair first,” Jared says softly. 

He must have a cup or pitcher or something because Jensen feels lukewarm water being poured over his head. A moment later Jared is gently scrubbing his short hair, causing those pleasurable tingles to trip down his spine again. He inhales the scents of tea tree, peppermint, and eucalyptus.

“Hey, Jense?”

“Hmm?” Jensen answers.

“Tell me about Sterling.”

Jensen’s eyes pop open, but Jared immediately covers them with a cool cloth. “You wanna get shampoo in your eyes?” He admonishes and goes back to gently scrubbing Jensen’s scalp.

After twenty years together he thought he could easily predict what Jared would ask, he never would have predicted Jared asking him about the only other man Jensen had ever been serious with. Jared was possessive to the point of obsessive of Jensen and even if Jensen knew that wasn’t healthy, it made him feel adored and cherished in a way he never had before. It was what had drawn Jensen to Jared in the first place. Jensen never felt as if he had been the center of Sterling’s world, with Jared, he _knew_ he was.

“I won’t be jealous or mad,” Jared says, pouring more water over Jensen’s head to rinse away the shampoo. 

Jensen gathers his thoughts as he hears Jared whip up lather in a shaving cup. He hasn’t thought about Sterling, or any of his previous lovers, since he met Jared. 

“I met Sterling at UTD. It was between my sophomore and junior years there.”

Jared removes the cool cloth from Jensen’s eyes. He carefully moistens Jensen’s gingery blond scruff with warm water. Jared applies the shaving lather with a fluffy brush all along his cheeks and jaw. He nudges Jensen to lift his neck and swirls some there.

“Sterling was a year older than me,” Jensen continues. “I had seen him around campus some. He was handsome so it was hard not to notice him. Anyway, me and the guys were having dinner at this steakhouse and Sterling was our server.”

Jared sets the shaving cup and brush aside and opens the pearl handled straight razor he favors for shaving. The lights are bright in the bathroom and wink off the deadly sharp blade. Jensen closes his eyes as Jared presses the razor to his throat. 

“He flirted with me and I flirted right back,” Jensen says as Jared begins to shave him in long careful strokes, first up his neck, then down his cheeks and his jaw. The rasp of the blade against his coarse whiskers sounds loud in the echoe-y quiet of the bathroom. 

“I slipped him my phone number when I paid the check. He called me the next day and that was it.”

Jared finishes shaving around Jensen’s mouth, gaze focused and intense. Jensen doesn’t expect him to comment; he’s busy analyzing, digesting, and probably compartmentalizing what Jensen’s told him.

Jared wipes away any stray bits of lather with a warm cloth. “Better get out of the tub, babe. I know the cold water feels good, but Google says it can dry your skin and you’ll hurt even more.” He pulled the stopper button and the water rushed out of the tub. “Let’s rinse this oatmeal off you.” He took up the hand held sprayer on a gentle setting and washed away the remnants of the soothing oatmeal. 

Jensen gingerly climbed out of the tub, and Jared gently blotted away the water. “Robe? Or jammies?”

Jensen grinned. “Pajamas.” 

As Jared is helping him into the green silk pajamas Jared asks quietly, “Did you love him?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t _anything_ like what we have, never could have been.”

Jared’s eyes are shadowed as he buttons Jensen’s pajama top. He doesn’t seem mad or jealous, but his face is unreadable, which is an odd situation for Jensen to be in. Usually he can read Jared, pick up subtle little expressions that no one else can. He will tread lightly. 

“You remember how you said that the South and Texas change but don’t change all that much? Sterling and I got shit twice over: once for being a gay couple and again because he’s black and I’m white. Not to mention that I’m also rich as fuck and he was a working stiff. It didn’t bother us, didn’t really have time to. Although I can see now it probably would have caused some problems—the wealth divide, not the color issue. I never gave a fuck about that. What caused him to break up with me was he realized what I am. I think it clashed with the idea he had of me.”

“And what are you?” Jared said sounding defensive. “Smart? Strong? Loyal? Generous? Sexy?”

“A killer. A criminal.” Jensen does catch Jared’s gaze then, there is anger banked in Jared’s hazel blue eyes that burns like amber fire. He’s angry, all right; it’s deep and simmering but there. And Jensen is aroused by it. 

“Like me,” Jared says and puts his hands on Jensen’s hips and gives him a gentle kiss. 

“Exactly. It’s why we work and Sterling and I could never. You understand me and accept me.”

“Always,” Jared says and ushers Jensen from the bathroom and to the kitchen. 

On the breakfast bar there were at least half a dozen bags of take out from a restaurant called The Old Man and The Sea. 

“Got pretty much the whole menu. Wasn’t sure what’s here for us to eat, this way we don’t have to worry about starving for a couple days.” He smiles at Jensen and pulls Styrofoam boxes out.

They each take a couple of containers of take out. Jensen takes the lobster tail in lemon butter sauce and Jared pineapple curried shrimp; they both agree to share the Keshi Yena, an Aruban dish made up of a large round ball of cheese stuffed with spiced chicken.

“What about you? Did you love anyone before me?” Jensen asks as they get settled on the sofa. 

Jared’s cheeks darken and his eyes shutter from shame. Jensen knows about Jared’s sexual history, knows it is unpleasant and abusive, and wishes he could take his question back. 

“Apart from Joey McIntyre from the New Kids? No. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling for you was love because I had nothing to go on. I remembered my parents and how they were with each other, but that didn’t explain the _feelings_. I wanted to impress you enough to get myself a job, but after I met you it became more than that, more personal. I wanted to talk to you, spend time with you, make you smile and laugh, keep you safe and help you anyway I could. I wanted to know your favorite band, favorite color, favorite foods, what you did when you weren’t running a Fortune 500 company and a crime syndicate. I wanted to know everything. I wanted to know _you_.”

“You do, better than anyone in the world. When I first saw you, I knew that you had an edge, that you were dangerous as hell. It scared me a little at first because you were an unknown to me, I didn’t know if I could trust you but it turned me on a little too.”

“Jense.” 

Jensen pauses, momentarily caught off guard by how troubled Jared looks all of the sudden. “What?”

“Can I tell you something I’ve never told you before?”

“You can tell me anything.”

Jared bites his lip. “You remember I told you that when we met all I wanted was to get a job with you so I could finally have money and a better life?”

“Yeah, of course.” Jensen says slowly, confused by where this is going. 

“I orchestrated the whole thing. The hijacking.”

“What?” Jensen is moving to sit up, heedless of the pain in his skin this new information rocking him. What the fuck was Jared telling him? That he planned it? He was the one to steal the shipment of weapons, and when he saw shit was going sideways, he turned on his co-conspirators? “You _planned….You_ stole—”

“No! Not that! Never that! I heard them bullshitting about how easy it would be to take a load of weapons and sorta…pushed them into it. It wasn’t hard.”

“And Pete? Pete was in on this too?”

“Not really. I knew I’d need him though, after I killed the guys driving the rig. He had a CDL and I didn’t. I never told him anything until I killed Ty and Tim. Don’t be mad at me, Jense, or think that I’d betray you. I can take anything, but I can’t take that.” Jared’s pleading eyes glitter over bright.

Jensen sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He remembered the night after Jared and Pete had reported back to the compound, how he had dressed them down. He also remembered what Jared had said as he left Jensen’s office: _“I can’t feel bad about it. Got your attention. That’s really all I really wanted to do.”_ He couldn’t be mad about it not then and certainly not now, twenty years later. Jared has proven himself, over and over, to be his most loyal, most trusted, man. 

“I’m not,” Jensen says. “If Ty and Tim had been loyal to me in the first place, they _never_ would have been manipulated by you. They would have come to me, or killed you themselves.” Jared’s face is still tight with tension and eyes still clouded with guilt. “Jared, let it go. You are capable of unimaginable evil, but the one thing you are not capable of is betraying me.” 

“I would _never_ ,” Jared confirms, almost savagely. The guilt fades from his hazel eyes and flash with fire. “And I will _annihilate_ anyone who ever does.” 

Oh fuck. Jensen’s cock twitches. When Jared gets that look in his eye, that hard tone in his voice, Jensen can’t help but be turned on by it. He swallows, locks gazes with Jared. “I know.”

Because of his sunburn, Jensen has trouble falling asleep. The cool bath had helped, but his hot skin was making itself known again. It’s dark and quiet, but for the sound of the waves. He waits for the anxiety that usually comes at dark and during the night but it’s not there. He’s easy in his mind in a way he hasn’t been since before Misha Collins kidnapped him. He realizes that is mostly because they are away from anything and everyone connected to his Organization. Jensen knows as soon as he gets back to Dallas and their real life it will come back.

“S’wrong?” Jared asks sleepily turning over and facing Jensen, eyes glittering in the low light. “Bad dream? Shit. Want me to turn on a light?”

“No,” Jensen sighs. “Skin’s just on fire.” 

Jared gets up and rifles through the pharmacy bag. He holds up a bottle of lotion. “Wanna try this? It’s moisturizing. It’s got aloe and soy in it. Google said—”

“Google said it would help,” Jensen says smiling as pulls himself into a sitting position. “Sure.” He starts unbuttoning his pajama top.

Once he sheds the pajama top and his skin can breathe it feels a bit better. Jared pumps lotion into his hands and Jensen braces for impact. He winces at the first contact; Jared’s hands are rougher than his own and his touch _hurts_. Jared’s touch, which has only ever given him care, comfort and pleasure, _hurts_. He knew that it would, of course, but it wounds him in some deep place in his heart. The lotion is cool and soothing but after a few passes of Jared’s hands Jensen has to flinch away.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says softly. 

Jensen scoffs and Jared immediately removes his hands. 

“Sorry,” Jared says again and bows his head, moving away.

Guilt stabs Jensen’s heart like an icicle. “It’s not you, Jare,” Jensen says a little shortly.

“I know,” Jared says wiping off his hands and climbing back into bed.

Jensen sighs and moves carefully to lie back down. Fuck. He forgot how much a sunburn could hurt. This fucking sucked. Beside him, Jared lays on his back stiff as a corpse. Not like him at all; Jared lies on his stomach and sprawls out those long limbs. Also, his breathing isn’t as deep as it would be if Jared was resting and heading towards sleep. Jensen knows all too well that Jared is over there brooding about Jensen’s sunburn and chastising himself.

“Jared. Don’t,” Jensen says after a few minutes of silence. “I can hear your thoughts. This still isn’t your fault.”

“Maybe not, but I still feel responsible.” 

Jensen sighs, and in a series of small careful movements—that still hurt like the fires of hell—turns on his side to face Jared. He knows what he can say to make Jared feel better. Both of them shouldn’t be miserable. “Well, I forgive you.”

Jared relaxes visibly and turns over on his side to gaze at Jensen, adoration in his eyes. “Hey, Jense?” 

“Hmm?” 

“You asked me where I would be if my parents were still alive. What about you? Where would you be if your dad hadn’t been Iron Alan Ackles? Or if you hadn’t decided to follow in his footsteps.”

Jensen really thinks it over. “Truth is,” he begins. “I can’t picture myself anywhere other than where I am now. I was born and bred for it. I think if I wanted to go in another direction he would have supported me. But I never did. I think I’d just be some anal retentive dude with shellacked hair wearing suspenders and doing a lemon and cayenne pepper cleanse or whatever upwardly mobile corporate ladder climbers do. I like the business-part of what I do, but the shady stuff excites me, stimulates me more.”

“I wish I coulda known your dad. You and he were always close?”

“I wish you could have too,” Jensen says softly. In his heart Jensen knows his dad would have loved Jared and treated him like another son. “Dad and I were always close. He doted on me when I was a kid, always encouraging me in whatever I did. And I always wanted to be just like him. Maybe that should have changed when I was old enough to realize he ran a crime syndicate and killed people, but it didn’t. I went into his office when I was sixteen, he asked me if I was ready to learn the business and I was. More than ready. I had been looking up to him and studying him my whole life.” 

“He was cool with you being gay?” Jared asks. “The mafia can be full of toxic masculinity, as the young’ns say.”

Jensen grins and rolls his eyes. “I know. He knew it, too, but no, he didn’t care that I was gay. He just told me to pick someone who knew the score. Same thing I told Colin awhile back, actually. Sterling didn’t know the score and once he did, it was over for us.”

“What about—” Jared breaks off looking uncertain.

“Jare, you can ask me anything. You know that,” Jensen urges gently.

“Your mom? If I had known you didn’t get along as well as I thought I wouldn’t have invited her to our wedding.”

“You didn’t know. I know you look for some kind of parental figure—whether you want to acknowledge it or not—and I wanted to share mine with you. But Donna…I have some resentment issues with her. She can try to play the concerned mom or the damsel after her abduction all she wants but she was always about the money. Money and status. It’s part of why I was always so close to Dad, because she wasn’t there, even before her kidnapping. She was always on some ski trip or going to Milan or Paris to shop, or Monte Carlo to gamble. Breezing in to coo over me and say how much I’d grown, give me an expensive gift, then jet away again.” Jensen can hear the bitterness in his voice. “I wanted so much for her to be different when we invited her for the wedding, but she really isn’t. I’m sorry she disappointed you.”

Jared shrugs. “I have you. And you are all I want.”

“You also have Pete, Colin, and the IC.”

Jared pauses, eyes going wistful and sad before they clear and he smiles a gentle smile. “I have a great family.”


	3. 3

Jensen wakes up alone. His heart pounds out of control for several seconds. For an instant he is thrown back five years to when he woke up naked and alone down in a dark pit, kept captive. Instead of the hard concrete surface he is on a soft bed, and instead of a dank wet underground smell he can smell the sea and hear the waves. _Aruba. I’m in Aruba with Jared._

That doesn’t answer the question of where Jared is, however. Jensen sighs, opens his eyes, and pushes into a seated position. His skin stings and pulls, and looks a darker pink than the day before. Still not quite the ominous most-painful lobster red and he has no blisters. Thank God for small favors. After this his chest was going to be even more freckled. 

He climbs out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. Then, he hobbles to the kitchen and the coffee he can smell brewing. A moment later he hears Jared’s voice, low and furtive. 

“Yeah? Great.” A pause as though listening, then he speaks again. “Yeah, the 2002. Not a problem. Thanks.”

Jensen’s brows come together and he purses his lips. His new husband is up to something. Jensen ambles into the kitchen where he finds Jared with his head poked into the wide stainless steel fridge.

“Who were you talking to? We’re supposed to be on our honeymoon, incommunicado from the business, except for an extreme emergency.”

Jared turns, carton of eggs and a couple of steaks in hand. “That wasn’t business,” Jared winks cheekily, shutting the fridge door with a slim hip. “Just a little something I’m working on.”

Jensen eyes him suspiciously before letting it go; eventually, Jared will reveal whatever it is he is “working on”. 

“There’s a grill on the patio. Thought we could have steak and eggs for breakfast.”

Jensen rolls his eyes when he notices the loud and tacky pair of board shorts Jared is wearing today: bright pink with pineapples all over them. He does not notice how the pink looks really good against Jared’s bronze skin. Not at all. 

“Sounds good. I liked the flamingos better,” Jensen comments following Jared out to the patio.

Jared sets down the breakfast things and holds out a hand. “Nope. You cannot go outside like that.”

Jensen gazes down at himself, clad only in a pair of green silk pajama pants. He nods. Jared is right. If he goes out without covering himself he will only burn more. He heads back into the bedroom to riffle through his luggage, looking for something light but covering. He grows more aggravated with himself. Here he is in a tropical paradise and he has to wear long pants and sleeves—in addition to being unable to enjoy his new husband’s touch, which he craves like an addict. He settles on putting the pajama top back on and heads out onto the patio. The patio is blue and white tile and surrounds a rectangular pool. Jensen doesn’t understand the point of having a pool when the Caribbean Sea is literally on your backdoor step. 

Jared has an apron on and when he turns around to give Jensen a smile, Jensen let out a loud bray of laughter. The apron is navy blue and printed on the front is the phrase “eat my meat” and under that in smaller font, “also try my sausage” with a finger pointing down. 

“Nope,” Jared says, sounding stern. He points to the glass-topped table in a shaded corner. On the table is a floppy hat. “Gotta wear that, too.”

Jensen clenches his jaw. God he might as well be in a damn nun’s habit. He stalks over to the table, throws himself into one of the chairs, and snatches up the wide brimmed hat. He looks at it, just a plain khaki safari hat, then, jams it on his head. He crosses his arms over his chest, hisses at the contact, and lets them fall to his sides and begins to pout. He feels ridiculous. The silk of his pajamas still feels like sandpaper on his burnt skin. It’s going to be like this for _days_. So, Jensen sulks and Jared grills, humming under his breath. Jensen thinks it might be Judas Priest. 

He should be wearing only board shorts, like Jared, should be swimming in the Caribbean Sea, even helping Jared construct a sandcastle. They should be fucking on the beach, or the bed, in the pool, or in the shower, against a wall, on the couch. Not that Jensen minds just _being_ with Jared, not at all, but after twenty years of some kind of sexual contact every day a sudden _unwanted_ dry-spell is hard to deal with. 

“Here we go,” Jared drops a plate with half a dozen eggs on it and two steaks. “Shit, I forgot coffee.” He dashes off back into the house, returning a moment later with a carafe of coffee, a couple of cups and cream for himself. 

“Perfect, mid-rare,” Jared says transferring a steak onto Jensen’s plate. “But they need to rest for a bit.”

“Thanks,” Jensen says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

Jared pours one for himself and pours in a shit-ton of cream. Jensen rolls his eyes. 

“Jared. Would it kill you to actually drink coffee, not coffee-flavored cream?” 

They do this all the time, Jensen giving Jared shit about his coffee preferences. It’s like a ritual. Following the ritual Jared just gives him a shit-eating grin and stirs his barely-brown coffee. 

“That is an abomination,” Jensen sips his own black coffee, grinning at Jared over the rim of his cup.

Jared slides eggs onto Jensen’s plate and then onto his own. He sprinkles them lightly with salt and pepper and goes to town.

“What about sex?” Jared asks, demolishing his eggs.

“I’m for it,” Jensen quips, starting in on his own eggs but eyeing the resting streaks. 

“So am I, but it’s off the menu for a little bit. You know I had a lot of sex before I met you.”

“Let’s try not to think about the _kind_ of sex you had because I’m pretty sure I’d want to kill all your Johns. I already killed your pimp.”

“Yeah, you did.” Jared’s eyes flash, the brief appearance of the killer and enforcer coming out before he blinks and the monster is gone. “I know you had sex with Sterling, but was he your first?”

“No. Lost my cherry at sixteen,” Jensen says. It’s kind of strange to be talking about this after twenty years. Jared has never asked before and Jensen kinda forgot about everyone else in his sexual past once Jared blasted into his life. He always figured Jared wasn’t interested. It’s weird but at the same time it’s nice, adding a new layer of intimacy to their relationship after all this time. They can’t be physically intimate, but they can be intimate in other ways: intimate with their hearts, souls, and minds. He has nothing to hide from Jared, and Jared has nothing to hide from him. 

“Who was your first if not Sterling?”

“Michael—”

“ROSENBAUM?!” Jared drops his fork and it clatters loud against the plate. 

“Jesus! Fuck no!” Jensen says horrified, “Fucking Christ. _Never_. No, a guy I went to Chilton Prep with. Michael Weatherly. He was an asshole, but he didn’t mind my reputation or Dad’s. He liked the drugs I had access to. Liked the drugs more than me, thinking back on it. He hit me once when I—” 

“This motherfucker hit you?” Oh Jesus. The Monster is out in full in Jared now. Jensen doesn’t know if he can call him back, or even if he _wants_ to. Jared is fucking sexy 24/7, but when this part of him comes out, it shifts into maximum overdrive. 

“Yes. Once.” Jensen says, using his threatening Ice Cold Ackles voice, which Jared has told him is different than his Big Boss Man voice. Jensen isn’t sure how, but Jared is an expert on him. “He didn’t like that I wouldn’t just hand over high-grade coke to him and not expect payment.”

Jared’s eyes are flat and dead, his jaw clenching. Shoulders tense. If Weatherly were in front of Jared right now he would be _dead_. “Jare, it was thirty years ago,” he gently touches him. Jared blinks, the Monster is still there, still awake, but Jared catches his gaze.

“I know, but I don’t like the idea of anyone putting their hands on you. If they do they need to pay.”

“He did,” Jensen says, holding Jared’s fiery gaze. A frisson of awareness passes between them. “I broke all the bones in his hands. You know how many bones are in the hand, Jared?”

Jared moves his chair closer to Jensen. His eyes glow with bright interest. “Twenty-seven. How’d you do it?” Jensen knows that if he were to put his hand between Jared’s legs, he’d find him hard as an iron bar. 

“Sledgehammer.”

“Oh fuck. That’s hot.” Jared presses close to his side, and kisses the side of his neck; Jared’s breath is a warm fan on his pulse point. He has an instant where he relishes the contact but his sizzling skin makes itself known. 

“Ahh!” Jensen winces and Jared immediately moves away. Jensen is beyond sick of this shit. He wants to enjoy his husband’s hands on him, big strong body pressing close.

“Shit. Sorry,” Jared says. “You know how I get when you go into detail about the vicious shit you’ve done.”

Jensen nods. “I know.” He pats Jared’s hard on. “Keep it on ice for a bit, babe.”

Jared tips him a salute. “Think the steaks have rested long enough,” Jared says. He serves one to Jensen, then himself. “So, who was after Broken Hand Man?”

“The guy after him was marginally better,” Jensen continues, cutting into his steak. “Blond surfer guy named James Van Der Beek. He didn’t care about the drugs I had access to, but liked the status of dating Alan Ackles’ son. Mmm! Jensen exclaims. His man can grill a mean steak, tender, juicy, and flavorful. 

“How long were you together?”

“Meh, eight or nine months. Most of our senior year. After that I had an on again off again thing with a guy named Kerr Smith at UTD until I met Sterling.”

“So I’m the fourth guy you’ve slept with?”

“No,” Jensen shakes his head. Jared couldn’t be that naive? Or maybe he was just hopeful? “You’re the fourth guy I’ve had a _relationship_ with, and I wouldn’t call Kerr serious. Had plenty of casual hook ups between relationships. It’s always been easy to find a willing body to fuck.”

“You didn’t bottom before me?”

“Not often and never did it with random hookups. Sterling was the top more often than not, and he was good, but it wasn’t…enough. You knew what I needed our first night together.”

“To let go and be dominated.”

“Yeah,” Jensen pauses, considering what else to say. Decides to just say it all and deal with whatever fall out might come from it. “Sterling could be rough, but it wasn’t enough. I could never get him to understand that, and he wasn’t _really_ into it. He did it _for_ me, but he never liked it.”

Jared’s face is neutral as he listens and eats his own steak. “You shouldn’t have to compromise your desires and wants for a partner’s.”

The simplicity of that statement hits Jensen in the chest. He _had_ compromised his needs for Sterling, even with casual hook ups, topping when he preferred to bottom. With Jared he never compromised. Jared gives him exactly what he needs and always has. He would give him more if Jensen asked, and never made Jensen feel like a deviant for asking the way Sterling sometimes did, never in words, but in looks and actions. 

“Yeah,” Jensen says quietly. “And with random guys I could never trust them enough to let them have control over me.”

“Nor should you,” there is stern caution in his tone. He knows exactly what happens when you give control over to some random person. Jared had lived it, was still scarred from it. 

“You and I have always been on the same wavelength with everything. The connection I have with you isn’t like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

Jared grins. “There’s a word for that.”

Jensen feels himself grinning. “Yeah, I think shrinks call it Co-Dependancy.”

“Nah, fuck those headshrinkers,” Jared scoffs with an eye roll and a wave of an elegant hand. “They don’t know half as much as they think they do, and they don’t know us. What we have is synergy.” 

Synergy. Yeah. Jensen likes that.

After breakfast they move back into the villa. Jared rattles around in the kitchen, cleaning up their breakfast things, singing _Enter Sandman_ under his breath. Jensen tosses the floppy hat away, and strips down to his boxer briefs. It feels a little better. Jensen plants himself on the sofa and falls into a sulk. 

They were in Aruba for two weeks, but they had planned things out and time was ticking away. This first week was them just alone, fucking their brains out. The second week they were going to do all kinds of touristy things: shopping, visit the casinos, they had an ATV tour booked, Jared wanted to snorkel, and Jensen wanted to fish. Jensen had chartered a yacht just for that purpose. Jared also wanted to get a metal detector and hunt for buried pirate treasure. Jared knew that pirates did not bury their treasure but there was still enough little boy in him—even after tragedy and abuse—to want to believe it and Jensen was not going to disabuse him of the notion. 

“You’re cute when you pout,” Jared says. 

Jensen blinks, seeming to come out of a daze, and scowls. He is a forty-six year old man. Forty-six year old men _do not_ pout. “I’m not pouting.”

“Then someone should tell that pretty face of yours,” Jared smirks. 

Mob bosses don’t pout; they plot and contemplate. “I’m _contemplating_ my enforced absence situation,” Jensen argues.

Jared narrows his eyes and raises a slender brow. “Enforced absence situation?”

How can that bastard be so cool? Jensen was a stoic one, the Ice Cold one. Jared was the animal, the monster, those in their business called him Cujo for fucks sake. “I’m sexually frustrated!” Oh great. Now he’s whining. “We can’t fuck because I’m all sunburned and it hurts to be touched.” 

“It’s only been a day and half, Jense,” Jared says, a corner of his mouth twitching, like he is barely holding in a laugh. 

Damn him. It’s not fucking funny! “I want to consummate my marriage.” Okay, he is definitely pouting but he doesn’t care. He wants Jared’s cock inside him, Jared holding him down, Jared choking him—with his hands or cock, Jensen was never picky—their sweat slicked bodies slamming together as they work to give each other as much pleasure as possible. 

“We could. Doggy position,” Jared shrugs. 

Neither like that particular position, and they seldom used it. Jensen likes it best when they can look at each other. He’s aware that probably sounds sappy as hell but it’s true. Before Jared he hadn’t realized how much better sex is with a deep emotional connection. 

He shakes his head. “I’d rather wait until I can touch you and wind around you like python.”

“My anaconda don’t want none if you’re sunburned, hun.” Jared grabs his crotch and begins thrusting his hips, doing a little provocative dance.

Jensen’s eyes go wide and he begins laughing hysterically; screaming with it, tears squirting from his eyes, stomach hurting with it. Oh God! Jared, his fucking hardcore metalhead husband, busting out Sir-Mix-A Lot lyrics! When Jensen thinks he’s got himself under control, he just starts laughing all over again because Jared’s shaking his cute ass all around the room, spouting more lyrics to _Baby Got Back_. 

“Ooh, Rump-o'-smooth-skin. You say you want to get in my Benz? Well, use me, use me 'cause you ain't that average groupie.”

Jensen cannot fucking _breathe_ through his laughter. He had always known Jared was a funny guy, quick with quips and saucy comebacks but the last couple of days have really shed new light on this part of his husband. Jared is _hilarious_. 

“What?” Jared asks, stopping his little karaoke concert and looking as angelic as a choir boy. That sends Jensen off into another riotous fit of laughter. 

All and all it takes Jensen fifteen minutes to get himself under control. His stomach hurts like he just did a thousand crunches, but he feels so damn good. 

“I needed that,” Jensen says once he is able to talk.

Jared gazes at him with warm eyes and a gentle smile with just a hint of dimple. He flops down on the sofa next to him. “It’s what I do.” His gaze lands on Jensen’s painful pink chest. He tosses Jensen the remote. “See if you can find something for us to watch. I’m gonna go get the lotion.”

Jensen flicks on the TV and scrolls through the streaming apps until he finds _Jaws: The Revenge._

Jared returns with a bottle of lotion, aloe, and a tube of hydrocortisone cream in hand. “Maybe you should apply this yourself. My hands are more callused than yours.”

“Oh, no you don’t. This fucking sunburn has already taken away our ability to fuck. I’m not going to let it rob me of having your hands on me however I can get them.” Jensen grins and leans in close. “I’m a genie in a bottle, baby, gotta rub me the right way.”

Now, its Jared’s turn to gape in shock. “Did you…? Was that…? _Christina Aguilera_?”

Jensen’s grin widens and he feels heat suffuse his cheeks. “What? I’m gay. I’m allowed to like pop divas.”

Jared throws back his head and laughs. “Yes, yes you are,” he says when his laughter subsides. He pumps out some of the coconut-smelling lotion and rubs it between his hands. 

“Gird your loins,” Jared warns before he’s gently dabbing the lotion across Jensen’s burning chest and smoothing it in.

Jensen hisses and whines, tries to move away. Jared is barely even touching him but each pass of his hands over Jensen’s skin feels like wildfire. 

“I’m sorry,” Jared apologizes and sounds as if he’s being tortured.

“Can’t be helped,” Jensen grits out and gives a stiff nod for Jared to continue.

Jensen doesn’t know how long Jared goes on smoothing lotion or aloe across his chest and shoulders, could be seconds or only a minute, but Jensen has to move away. “Please, stop,” Jensen says. He’s burning all over and feels as if he’s been flayed open. 

Jared moves away as if scalded and surges to his feet. Jensen gasps and pants, but forces his arm to reach out and grasp Jared’s hand.

Jared gazes down at him expression devastated. Jensen wants to—has to—do or say something to get Jared to smile. 

“It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again,” Jensen says.

Jared’s mouth drops open, and his brows come together, forehead crinkling in adorable disbelief, before he throws his head back and laughs. 

“Yes, it does, Precious, it gets the hose,” Jensen says in a high cutesy voice people adopt when speaking to pets.

“All right, Buffalo Bill,” Jared says, brow arched. His laughter tapers off and he sits back down next to Jensen, but not pressed to his side as he normally would.

Jensen points to the TV where the information card for _Jaws: The Revenge_ was showing. “You wanna?” Jensen inquires. 

Jared’s eyes light up. “Oh my God, _yes_. This movie is ridiculous. I love it. It’s _so_ bad.”

Jensen presses play. 

Ninety minutes later Jared was cackling and Jensen is staring in disbelief at what they have just watched. What _the hell_ was that?

“The…shark…roared,” Jensen says, staring at the credits. 

Beside him Jared is bouncing and laughing, his eyes are so bright and dancing with happiness. “I know! Fucking _great_!”

“It is ridiculous, Jared,” Jensen counters.

“I told you! When I was a kid I just liked the shark eating people on the banana boats and the pretty scenery, but now I love how bad the movie is on the whole.”

“That’s some growth there,” Jensen deadpans, but Jared’s utter glee is infecting him and he feels himself start to smile. 

“What about you, Jense? What’s a bad movie that you really love? Unironically love.”

Jensen drops his gaze, one movie coming to his mind. It is considered a camp classic but he wonders if Jared will think it’s too stupid. 

Jared nudges him with an elbow. “Jenseeeeen?” Jared draws out his name. 

“ _Mommie Dearest_ ,” Jensen pushes the title out of his mouth.

Jared’s mouth drops open and his eyes widen. “Fuck. Yes,” Jared says emphatic. “Jesus, Jensen that is like a gay _classic_.” His eyes narrow speculatively. “You are secretly a fan of pop divas and camp classics…there might be a little bit of a queen in you after all. I love it!” Jared’s arms close around him and Jensen cries out in pain. 

Jared jumps back. “I’m sorry!” He exclaims, his relaxed smiling face transforming into one of guilt and regret. 

“It’s okay,” Jensen breathes out. He reaches out and touches Jared’s chest, right over his heart. “It was an anticipatory flinch. Your lotions and potions seemed to help a little.” It’s a lie, he is stinging like a motherfucker, but does not want Jared to guilt himself about this goddamn sunburn more than he already is. 

Jared’s stricken expression melts from his face and he smiles. “So? _Mommie Dearest_?”

For dinner they heat up leftover take out from the night before. They eat at the breakfast bar instead of the dining table, liking the closeness and intimacy of it.

“No bad,” Jensen remarks of his reheated shrimp bisque. 

Jared nods as he opens the banana leaves encasing his fish and cutting into the flesh. “Still flaky.” He forks a bite into his mouth. “And tasty.”

They suspend conversation as they eat, enjoying being together and listening to the waves and bird noises as night settles over the island. Jensen’s mind drifts to the island he wants to purchase for them. It’s a fun fantasy, but Jensen finds himself wondering about the reality of it. Right now this is their honeymoon, a nice getaway from everything, but retirement is another thing. What would they do to fill the hours? 

“Hey, Jare?” Jensen says breaking the comfortable silence. “I know you said you’d like to retire and become a beach bum, but how feasible is that? I think you’d get bored after a week.”

Jared’s eyes go soft and unfocused as he thinks about Jensen’s question. “You could be right, but I’ve lived hard and rough for a long time, Jense. Granted, I’ve had a cushy life since I got involved with your Organization, but it’s still rough in its own way, assassinations and interrogations. But you wanna know the truth? I think…the older I get the more I’m losing my taste for it. I wanna lay my tools down and enjoy the life I’ve struggled for. Find new interests and hobbies. It’s hard to do that when I need to worry about your security, making sure your businesses are running smoothly, and your orders are carried out. I imagine you’re eager for retirement, too. You’ve been doing this since before we met. That’s a long time to wear the crown.”

That was a much more in depth answer than Jensen had been expecting. Clearly retiring to the Bahamas isn’t just some idle fantasy for Jared. Jensen thinks about some of the things Jared brought up, enjoying the life he’s worked for, growing older and mellowing out—he had noticed that happening to Jared and even himself over the last couple of years. He thinks about the weight he has carried for the last twenty years, made lighter by Jared’s presence in his life, but he has been running the Organization for twenty-five years, and his training began before that. 

He imagines it as a backpack, slowly filling with stones of responsibility. When Jared came into his life some weight shifted to be carried evenly between them. Soon, maybe as little as four years, more weight will be shifted to Colin, who will be in his prime and eager to take on that weight, just as Jensen is preparing to lay it down. 

Yes, he thinks, they can do this, retire to their own private paradise. If they grow bored they can travel and really see the world. Jensen himself has always been enamored with Venice, Italy. He knows Jared would love to go to Italy and Sicily, both for the excellent shopping and to walk where his Mafioso heroes walked. 

“So, what do you really think about Colin and Brock?” Jared asks as they are opening containers with dessert dishes in them: Bananas foster and strawberry cheesecake.

“I’m not thrilled about the fifteen year age difference. If Colin were underage and impressionable it would be different; I’d have his balls. I trust Brock. I don’t think he would have acted on anything with Colin if it wasn’t the real deal. He’s proven himself loyal over the years. I believe him when he says he didn’t want to lose my trust and respect, or risk your wrath.”

Jared flashes a sinister smile. “If he hurts Colin I will cut out his heart.”

Jensen feels an answering smile split his own lips. “And I’ll do nothing to stop you.” 

“Weird to think a lawyer will be running things,” Jared remarks spearing a strawberry from his cheesecake and holding it out to Jensen.

Jensen sucks the sugary glazed berry from the fork and chews. “A little. I can see the logic in it though. He’ll be a lawyer the same way I’m a businessman. Julian is all ready to offer him a job at his firm once he graduates law school and passes the Bar.”

Jared grins and shakes his head. “Julian is never going to die. He’s fucking ageless.”

“He’s both. Ancient and ageless, but he knows his shit. Ruthless as hell. Colin will learn a lot from him. I think between Colin, the IC, and Colin’s own group, the Organization will do well once we retire.”

“You say we, but it’s all on you, Jense,” Jared says sipping a glass of white wine.

“I’m the head, true enough, but you help carry the load, Jare. Don’t ever think you don’t. Your support over the years is invaluable.”

Jared’s eyes gleam. He sets his fork down and takes Jensen’s hand, lifting it to his lips, kisses his wedding ring. “Does that make me your Consigliere, Don Ackles?”

Jensen scoffs, rolls his eyes, and smacks Jared’s chest. “This is not the Mafia, Jared.”

“See, you say that but it is” Jared’s entire face is alight, eyes sparkling, lips split in a wide admiring grin, with the zeal he always gets when talking about the Italian or Sicilian mob. “You are the Don. Kane is your Underboss. Jase, Stevie, Mike, and Tommy are all caporegimes, and their crews are all associates and soldiers. You just call it an Organization. You are a Mafia Don, Jensen Ackles. Accept it.”

“I am not in any way Italian or Sicilian, Jared, ergo I do not run a Mafia organization. I will allow that I am the boss of an organized crime syndicate, but that’s it.”

Jared sniffs, and wipes away an imaginary tear. “Forty six years old and finally admits to being a Mafia Don. Powerful tale of self-acceptance.”

“You are such a prick,” Jensen sighs but cannot stop his grin. He wads up his napkin and tosses it at Jared. God he married a fucking _dork_.

Before bed, Jensen takes a cool bath and Jared applies more aloe and lotion to his shoulders, chest and legs. Jensen endures the rough touch, giving Jared a reassuring smile the entire time. He climbs carefully into bed, taking time to find a comfortable position. Jensen is getting more irritated about the little things about being sunburned: his clothes and bed sheets hurting his skin, pulling and burning when he moves a certain way, and that Jared can’t hold him until he falls asleep. He hates sleeping on his back. It feels a little too much like how morticians lay people out in caskets. He sits in bed while Jared showers and broods on it, poking at the skin on his chest, trying to see if it’s close to peeling, but all it does is feel like fire and he stops. 

Jared steps out of the bathroom, a towel slung around his hips. Water from his shower glistens—listen to him, two days without sex and he’s waxing poetic—across that broad chest and shimmers like diamonds as it catches in his chest hair. Jensen swallows hard, cock growing half hard. Jared mindlessly walks over to the bureau and plucks out a pair of boxer briefs. Jensen watches, salivating, as Jared removes the towel from his hips, revealing creamy skin, perky ass cheeks, thick veiny cock and heavy balls. Jared absently dries his junk and slips into his underwear. Jensen wonders if Jared is torturing him on purpose. 

“You growin’ a beard or something?” Jensen asks, and his tone is a little harsh. Jared’s stubble is turning into a full beard at this point. “You look like a goddamn bum.”

Jared climbs into bed, and turns over on his side to gaze and Jensen, a little crease between his elegant brows lets Jensen know that he heard the sharpness in his voice and it wounded him. 

“No. Not shaving until you feel better. You walk around mostly naked because clothes hurt your skin, and I just wanna lick and bite, the scruff reminds me I can’t.”

“Oh, because the burning magenta skin doesn’t do a good enough job.” Shit. He’s snapping at Jared and none of this is his fault. 

Jared’s eyes go hard before he blinks and his face is indulgent. “You’re irresistible.” He kisses the tip of Jensen’s nose. “Get some sleep, grumpy-pants.”

For the next few days they do mundane things in doors. They watch movies, they try to cook—with varying degrees of success. They play poker and blackjack—Jensen wins twenty K but loses fifteen, and they have more intimate conversations. It’s nice and domestic, but all Jensen wanted was to make love with his husband, feel Jared’s big, skilled, lethal hands on him, his mouth, teeth, tongue, be used and abused; fucked hard and rough, or slow and deep. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so horny, probably way back when his balls dropped. Jensen takes cold baths twice a day and keeps rubbing aloe, lotion, and the hydrocortisone cream on his skin, doing anything to get relief and help speed up the healing process.

Jensen knew Jared was doing his best to entertain him, keep his mind off his burning skin and off the fact that they couldn’t make love, Jared was always there, looking like a total sex god and smelling like sea, sand and sweat looking so sexy and hot always walking around in a wifebeater and those low-hanging boardshorts, showing Jensen a different side of himself. Not soft exactly, softness has been wrung out of Jared from an early age, but an easier, gentler side. All it did was stir Jensen’s arousal to new frustrating heights. 

Five days into their honeymoon the pain in his skin begins to lessen, and the vibrancy of the pink begins to fade. Feeling considerably more benevolent, Jensen suggests they head into Oranjestad to the Renaissance Mall. 

“You sure?” Jared asks but he can see his eyes go bright and eager.

“Yeah. I’ll wear long sleeves and a hat. Besides we’ll be in shops most of the time.”

For the first couple of hours Jensen enjoyed himself. It was nice to be outside. Jared herded Jensen into the Aruba Aloe Store first and bought several products that might help Jensen’s sunburn. Jared spent several thousands of dollars at Gucci, Prada, and D&G, but then he found the TAG Heuer and Rolex stores. Jensen will admit it was adorable seeing Jared geek out about watches, but he had to practically _pry_ Jared out and he still bought four watches for himself and two for Jensen.

As the day wore on Jensen’s mood soured. He didn’t care about the heat, he was from fucking Texas and was used to heat, but he had sweat through the light seersucker suit and it was starting to hurt. His temper gets shorter, his sarcasm is a little more cutting, and he snapped at Jared more. He could see the hurt on his face for a split second before it was gone. Jensen felt guilty. Jared was having a great time, in his element in the luxury stores, but Jensen just wanted to leave.

“Jared, you don’t even _like_ Louis Vuitton,” Jensen groused. “You think his shit is fugly, your exact word, so why the hell are we in here? Oh wait, I know, because you are a fucking label queen.”

That got some serious disapproving looks from the store associates. Jensen sent a glare their way. He could buy _everything_ in here if he desired, so they could stow their shit.

“Okay, Grumpy Gills, we’ll head back to the villa. Get you in a cool bath with some of this Aruba Aloe stuff.”

Thank fuck.


	4. 4

On the sixth day, as he is toweling off from his morning shower his skin starts to peel. It feels like the heavens part and angels begin to sing. 

“Jare!” He calls from the bathroom, positively giddy. He gently rubs at his skin, it doesn’t hurt! “I’m peeling!” Curious by Jared’s lack of response, Jensen wraps a towel around his hips and heads into the kitchen. Jared’s not there, but Jensen hears his low voice drifting in through the patio door. Jensen’s brows draw together and he cocks his head, listening. 

“What we talked about. Yeah. Today.” Jared pauses. “Not a problem. Thanks.” Jared pockets his phone and slips back into the kitchen. 

“Who was that?” Jensen asks.

“No one.” His eyes gleam with mischief. 

“Uh-huh,” Jensen says, giving Jared a serious side-eye. “Anyway. I’m peeling! Touch me!” He grabs Jared’s hands and places them on his chest.

“Mmmm,” Jared rumbles, hands moving gently up and down Jensen’s chest. Jensen goes rock hard so fast he thinks he might pass out from the rush of blood. “Yeah, baby.” He swoops down and gives Jensen a deep and thorough tongue-kiss. 

“So,” Jared whispers against his mouth as Jensen strains against him, wanting more, wanting everything that has been denied him this week. “You want the good news or bad news?”

Jensen pulls back, dazed and annoyed. Why wasn’t Jared fucking him on the breakfast bar already? Hasn’t he suffered enough? “Huh?”

“Good news first then,” Jared says, pulling back. “Good news is that _Showgirls_ is on Netflix and we are going to watch it. The bad news is I’m not fucking you until sometime tonight.”

What. The. Fuck. 

“Wha—huh? The hell do you mean you’re not fucking me until tonight? Jared!” Okay, he realizes he probably sounds like a spoiled brat right now, but six days without sex, and a sex god walking around the house in progressively tackier board shorts. Jensen would admit he liked the pink flamingos and even the pineapples but absolutely hated the garish parrots, the monkeys and bananas, and the rubber fucking duckies. Today he was wearing a shark patterned pair, but the sharks were either blue, pink or yellow. It was an assault on good taste…and eyesight. How could a man like Jared who knew and lauded good taste and luxury wear such utterly tacky shit? Did he wear them to try and make himself seem less sexy and attractive to Jensen? That would be impossible. He could don a glittery unicorn onesie and Jensen would still want to jump his bones. And god does he want to jump his bones now after six fucking days of Jared walking around with tacky board shorts hanging low on his slim hips, smelling like coconuts and seawater, skin a delicious-looking caramel tan color that Jensen wants to kiss and lick. Now that he can, Jared is _denying_ him?

“Jensen.” Jared’s got that authoritative tone in his voice and Jensen ceases his internal bitchfit. “Who am I?”

“Jared. You…you’re my Jared.”

The subtle rise of color in Jared’s sharp cheeks made Jensen feel proud. “Yes, and what do I do?”

Jensen swallows, he gets it now. “Give me what I need.”

“Exactly.” He crowds Jensen up against the stainless steel fridge. “To do that I want things a certain, perfect way. That is going to take a little time. Trust me, baby. As bad as you want me, just know I want you back just as bad. Just a few more hours, and I promise that you will have _everything_ you’ve been craving.” 

Jensen’s heart thuds. Jared has never broken a promise to him. He feels chastened. It’s been rough on him, but he hadn’t considered how hard this has been for Jared as well. Shit. He was a selfish prick about this. “But what about jacking me off? Something, Jared, to take the edge off? Please?”

Jared presses in closer, breath warm and fragrant of coffee. “No,” Jared says sternly. 

Jensen chases Jared’s lips, licks them with the tip of his tongue. “Maybe I can suck you off while you watch the movie?” He reaches down to rub Jared’s growing erection. It’s hard and getting harder, so big, and Jensen feels so empty.

“You could, but I think you’d rather take this big load in your ass and scream as I lick it out, like I promised to do.”

Jensen shivers. Oh God. He remembers that conversation. Hours before their wedding Jared had called him up and talked him to orgasm, making that exact dirty promise. It occurs to him how clean Jared has been talking to him over the last several days, no sexual innuendo, no dirty promises, nothing to add to his frustration. Jensen appreciates that. 

“Okay. Now,” Jared says, backing away. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to make breakfast and we’re going to go about today like we have been for the last few.”

“But, Jared.”

“No. You trust me, right?”

“More than anything,” Jensen replies promptly.

“Then trust me now. Go into the living room and pick something to watch.”

He turns to go into the living room when something occurs to him. “Hey, Jare? I’m sorry what I said about your scruff. I think you’d look good with a beard.”

They watch _Whatever Happened To Baby Jane_ over a breakfast—though it is close to noon—of scrambled eggs, sausage, and toast. Jared does an amazing Bette Davis impression; Jensen’s own Joan Crawford isn’t too bad. They could have been actors in another life. 

They watch _Hairspray_ —the original with Ricki Lake, and have a good time dancing to the old music. Jared really is a good dancer when he tries. Jensen however gets a raging hard on and that makes it a bit harder—no fucking pun intended—to dance. Both movies are a pleasant distraction from the low-grade state of arousal he is in.

They have beers and Jared makes amazing BLT’s for lunch that they eat out on the patio. They head back inside and Jared cues up _Showgirls_. It is tacky and over the top; he loves it for those reasons and more, but the extremely sexual nature of the movie makes his banked arousal flare to life. 

“Hey, Jare, don’t you just love Versayce?” Jensen says mangling the pronunciation just as Nomi Malone does in the movie. 

“Oh my fucking God, do you have any idea how much I _hate_ that line?”

Jensen grins wide. “A label queen like you? The hell you say!”

“Shut up, smartass.”

Sometime later, there was a knock at the door. Jensen felt as if a bucket of cold water was splashed over him. Who in the hell was that? Only a handful of people knew where they were. Had something so serious happened back in Dallas that someone came to get them? Had something happened to Colin? Maybe some unknown enemy had used Jensen and Jared’s time away to launch some kind of coup or takeover of his Organization. Why had he allowed himself to forget who and what he was? He needed to be wary and alert at all times, and have a gun at hand. He stood stiffening his shoulders and straightening his spine. Jared, who had also got to his feet, flashed a smile. Jensen relaxed. If Jared wasn’t alarmed, he shouldn’t be. He sat back down and tried to focus on the movie again but all he could give his attention to was Jared at the door. 

He heard voices from the door, Jared soft and polite, then the door closed and he came back with a narrow wooden box, there is a stamp or label or logo on it, but he can’t make it out. Jared winks at Jensen and heads toward the kitchen, trying to hide whatever was just delivered. Jensen follows, feeling a little like a puppy. At the kitchen counter, Jared was opening the wood box. 

“Jare?”

“Nope! Back to the living room with you!” He shooed Jensen back into the living room. 

“But.... What’s in the box?” Jensen wails melodramatically. “Brad Pitt. _Seven_. No?” He grins, feeling playful despite himself. His eyes flit to the counter and he quickly reads the black label on the box: Krug Clos du Mesnil 2002.

“You are way hotter than him. Go back into the living room.” Jared bends and kisses his smiling lips. “Don’t wanna miss Nomi coming out of the volcano,” Jared sing-songs gently pushing Jensen back towards the living room. 

Well, Jensen can’t really argue with that, so he returns to the living room and back to the tacky glamorous world of Las Vegas showgirls. He watches the movie but thinks about the box in the kitchen. Jensen knows enough about wine to recognize the Krug brand, they produce champagnes, and he remembered Jared mentioning the year 2002 on the phone a couple of days ago. He concludes that Jared has bought them a very fine vintage of champagne for later tonight. He shivers in anticipation.

Jared joins him a couple of minutes later. Jensen tucks himself up close to Jared’s side, warm and intimate, smelling his scent of clean sweat, sea salt and something darker, familiar as Jensen’s own reflection.

“Wanna know a secret?” Jared asks Nomi is exploding topless out of the volcano.

Jensen tilts his head to gaze at Jared. “We don’t have secrets, Jared,” Jensen says sounding stern. 

Jared grins. “Well, not really a secret more of an interesting fact from my past.”

Jensen cocks a brow. “Okay.” With Jared he could be about to confess to murder or something a bit silly and fun. 

“When this movie came out, me and Petey would go see it all the time. I was thirteen or so and Petey would sneak me into the theater. He loved all the tits and ass but me? I loved the—”

“The camp,” Jensen finishes cutting him off grinning and nodding.

“Exactly!” Jared crows. “Although I didn’t know that was the word for it. Not back then.”

“He never knew or suspected you were gay before he found us together?” Jensen asks.

“No.” Jared sighs. “After Armstrong fiddled with me, I didn’t like people near me or to be touched and Petey was never demonstrative that way with his affection.”

“Understandable.” He turns on the couch to look at Jared. Jared doesn’t look at him, just keeps watching as Nomi gyrates on screen, but his voice has lost its happy playfulness. 

“When puberty hit and shit, and I figured I was probably gay. It felt wrong, because I thought Armstrong fiddling with me _made_ me that way, and that compounded the guilt he made me feel for my families’ deaths. I kinda worried I’d…you know, like little boys or something, because of what Armstrong did. I went wild, trying to run from myself, ya know? I tried to be straight. I fucked girls, but they never really did it for me. Then the idea of killing him occurred to me. Killing him made it better, like exorcising the guilt and grief.”

“You didn’t lose your cherry to some John did you? Or,” Jensen cannot help the sneer or the anger pounding through his veins. “Fuller did you?” He hated the idea of Jared losing his virginity to that child trafficking scumbag.

“No. This was a little bit before Petey went to prison and I started working for Fuller. I’d done a little reading into sexuality and orientation. Back then shit wasn’t as open and in your face as it is now, but I found out enough to realize you’re born gay, and being gay didn’t make me a pedophile. After learning that, I set out to get laid like any red-blooded American boy.

“I snuck into a gay club. It’s kinda amazing how much you can get by with just by being tall. I was just over six feet and either my height made me seem older—my face sure didn’t—or the bouncer didn’t care, and I got in. 

“The first time I had sex I was fifteen—close to sixteen—and he was a cute guy, littler than me. I never liked big guys. You’re about the biggest guy I’ve been with, and I don’t mean anything about your damn stomach. I mean, you are a tall and broad guy, Jense, a big guy, it’s just I’m bigger. Anyway, we talked and flirted to break the ice then went into the bathroom to fuck. It was quick and dirty but oh so good. Being with a girl was _never_ like that. God, I shot off like a rocket the second I got in him. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so young at the time. I kept going back to the club again and again.”

Jared goes quiet for a bit, and Jensen lets it go. “I think…” Jared starts up after maybe ten or fifteen minutes, “that that is how I caught Fuller’s attention. He had seen me at the clubs or something. Because when he approached me he knew shit.”

“I’m sor—”

“Don’t,” Jared’s voice is sharp, cutting off Jensen’s sympathetic words. “Like I said whatever unpleasant shit happened is always gonna be worth it because I found you, and you are worth _everything_.” 

Jensen rests his head on Jared’s shoulder and they go back to watching the movie. He does feel Jared tense up when Nomi’s history of prostitution comes up, but for the most part he’s relaxed and quotes lines along with the actresses; eventually, Jensen gets in on the act and it is a great time and the late afternoon goes by.

As Nomi is hitching out of Vegas, there is another knock at the door. Jensen glances over at Jared, who stands up, not seeming alarmed by this incursion on their honeymoon either. 

“‘What did you win’?” Jared asks, quoting the movie, as he walks to the door a sexy sway in those hips that isn’t usually there. 

“’Me’,” Jensen pushes the answering quote out of his mouth.

“’I want my fucking suitcase! Asshole!’” Jared quotes, really putting the camp into it. Jared really had a gift for over the top camp and Jensen loved to see it. Jensen loved Jared more than life itself, but these glimpses into the kind of man Jared was, and could have been in another kinder universe, open, bubbly, carefree, but still with moments of seriousness, even pensive melancholy, made him love Jared all the more. He loved all facets of Jared.

He came back from the door with a couple of large paper bags. “I ordered dinner for us from the Yemenja Woodfired Grill. You will eat every bite because you will need your strength for after.”

Just like that Jensen was rock hard. 

“Head down to the beach,” Jared winked taking the bags into the kitchen. “I’ll be out with the food in a few.”

Jensen did as instructed and gasped when he stepped out of the sliding glass door. Somehow Jared had arranged for a table and chairs to be set up on the beach, and a goddamned brass bed under the palm tree. There is some soft music playing from speakers that have been set out on the deck. Jensen listens, something soft and classical. It takes a second for him to realize it is music by the quartet that had played at their wedding reception, which had been a mix of Jared’s much-loved metal power ballads and Jensen’s classic rock favorites. His heart clenches. Others can think what they like, call Jared a monster or Cujo, but this is who he really was, thoughtful and romantic. 

Feeling like he’s floating Jensen heads down to the intimate little table set for two on the shoreline. There is a bottle of white wine open—not the Krug champagne, Jensen notices—and crystal wine and water glasses, silver cutlery, and linen napkins. The only things missing are plates. Jensen takes a deep breath of the salty air and exhales. Jared arranged all this, keeping him distracted by fun campy movies. The sky is a gorgeous collage of pinks, yellows, oranges and reds. Nothing could be more perfect, a delicious meal on the beach as the tide comes in and the stars come out. There were no words to express his love for his husband.

He turns when he hears the sliding glass door open. Jared, looking like an absolute _vision_ in sleek black slacks and a flamingo pink silk shirt, open at the throat and sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose his muscled forearms, walks toward him carrying a plate of food in each hand. 

“Okay?” Jared asks, setting the china plates down on the table.

“Amazing,” Jensen replies, not even looking at the food. All he can focus on is Jared. Jensen feels very underdressed in his knit pants and t-shirt. The knit pants are his but the t-shirt—a soft wash-faded Metallica _…And Justice for All_ concert T, a bit baggy on him so as not to irritate his healing sunburn—is Jared’s.

Jared bends to kiss him. “Just one more sec, okay? Left something in the kitchen.”

Jared turns and strides back onto the deck and disappears into the villa. He appears a moment later with a silver ice bucket—there is the Krug—a green bottle chilling in it. Instead of bringing it over to their table he sets it in the middle of the bed. He sets across from Jensen a gentle smile making his dimples peek out. 

“Jared…when? How?” Jensen asks at a loss.

“I could be coy and say ‘I’m a man of many and mysterious talents’, but we both know money takes care of most things. Eat.” Jared motions to the cutlery and plate. He had plated their dinner with all the flair of a head chef.

Jensen gazes down at his plate to see what has been prepared for him. “It’s a grilled stuffed pork tenderloin,” Jared says helpfully. 

So it is, Jensen thinks picking up his fork and knife. His tenderloin is stuffed with a variety of mushrooms and mascarpone, with a side dish of risotto and glazed asparagus and snow peas. His first bite is heavenly. He glances at Jared’s plate. Jared is enjoying a seafood medley with rice and stir fry veggies.

“I wonder about Colin,” Jared says pouring them each a glass of the white wine.

“Meaning?” Jensen asks brows coming together. 

“He’s smart, capable. But, let’s be honest, your authority, at least a part of it, comes from the fact that everyone _knows_ you, and you alone, hold the leash of a rabid dog—Cujo’s leash, _my_ leash,” Jared’s vulpine eyes gleam in the dying sun. “Colin doesn’t _have_ a Cujo.”

Jensen nods, understanding. He takes a sip of wine, wipes his mouth. “You wanna know what I think? I think Colin _is_ the rabid dog. He has a darkness in him, I saw it the first time I met him. It’s grown over the years. I think once he starts working interrogations with you he will tap into it, unleash it. He’s like me in the way that he keeps a lid on things, but deep down, he’s more like _you_.”

Jared absorbs that. “If that’s the case, he needs a Jensen. Think that’s Brock?”

Jensen eats and mulls it over. He’s known Brock in a casual way for twenty years. He knows the business and runs his arm of it excellently. “I don’t know. I think it’s too early in whatever this is with Colin and Brock to judge it. And we certainly cannot compare what they have to what we have. We…are not a “healthy” couple.” 

Jared rolls his eyes. Jensen agrees with that assessment. He doubts many—if any—couples have what they have, a bone deep knowledge that their partner would do _anything_ for them. He can function well on his own, but with Jared, he is at his _best_.

“Do you worry?” Jared asks. “I mean, you kept us a secret for fifteen years because you worried it would put a target on me; that I would be used to get to you. Do you worry about that with Colin? That someone will use Brock to get to him, or vice versa?”

“It’s always a risk in our business. ‘Pick someone who knows the score’; my father told me that, and I told Colin. Of course, you can’t pick who you fall in love with—I think Colin realizes that now that he has fallen in love with another man—but Colin keeps his private life private like I do. 

“Collins didn’t know about us and that was to his detriment,” Jensen says. “If he had…I doubt he would have done what he did. He would have known better, he would have known you would come for him, that you were off the leash.” 

Jared’s grin was feral, but not in the sexy way, but in that gut-clenching, frightening way. Yeah, Jared was a monster, a rabid dog. Cujo, but only because that was the side of himself he chose to put on display; the same way Jensen showcased his clinical and calculating Ice Cold persona. 

“I still think I killed him too quickly.”

Jensen thinks about the ten days in that dank dark pit. Thinks about the clawing thirst and the gnawing hunger, the helplessness, the very real sensation of his sanity beginning to slip away, about how he still had nightmares, still hated the dark, and closed in spaces. “Yeah, you probably did. Back to the topic of Colin. I think the loyalty he has bred with his crew out in California and the rest of the IC will be enough to protect him after you and I retire. Loyalty is not something that can be bought and is priceless once you have it; Colin has it. In addition, our very big, very dark shadows will still linger and offer more protection. So, no, I’m not really worried.”

“You are a very wise man, Jensen Ackles.”

Jared clears away their dinner things and heads back into the villa for their desserts.

“So. Retirement. When you want to hang it up, Jense?” Jared asks setting down bowls with what looks to be a scoop of gelato topped with glazed berries.

“Maybe when I’m sixty. So, fourteen or fifteen years. By then Colin will be very well seasoned. Maybe before if he is as gifted in this business as I suspect he is becoming. He’s already proven he is capable, running his small rackets in Cali.”

Jared smiles. “That sounds good.” 

They make short work of their desserts. Jensen wipes his mouth as Jared stands. He gazes down at Jensen with heat in his eyes.

“Well, I fed you a good dinner. Now, it’s time to put out.”

“I’m not that kind of girl!” Jensen says in a falsetto voice tossing his napkin down in a fit of high dudgeon.

Jared lets out a bark of laughter. Jensen does like the short beard Jared seems to be cultivating, but doesn’t like the way it hides his dimples. Jensen stands and takes Jared’s hand and they walk over to the brass bed. Jensen’s pulse races. How is it possible for him to be nervous when he’s been sleeping with Jared for twenty years?

At the edge of the bed, Jared enfolds Jensen into his strong arms, and gazes down at him, eyes radiating love and passion. “You sure you’re not hurting anymore?” Jared asks, brows drawn together as he searches Jensen’s face for a lie. 

“No. I want you, Jared. I fucking _need_ you,” Jensen’s voice holds the hint of a plea in it. 

“You have me, Jense. Always.”

Jared lowers his mouth and covers Jensen’s, stealing his breath and stoking the banked fires of passion into a blaze. He clutches at him, grips a handful of his bright pink silk shirt and down to grip a nice handful of perky ass cheek. He hears Jared make a noise, between a chuckle and groan. They kiss and grope beneath the palm tree until they are breathless, flushed, and hard. Jared pulls back, rips his shirt off his back, buttons go flying. Jensen mirrors him; pulling the loose-fitting t-shirt over his head and shoving his pants and underwear down. Newly naked, Jared grips Jensen and hauls him in, kissing him again, hands wandering all over his peeling freckled skin. 

“I’ve really missed touching you,” Jared says between kisses. 

“I’ve missed it, too,” Jense sighs before Jared’s mouth is on his in a slow deep kiss, tongues caressing and playing. 

Jared nips at his full bottom lip before pulling back. “Get on the bed,” Jared requests, giving an upward nod of his head. He lifts the silver ice bucket with the bottle of champagne chilling in it from the middle of the bed.

“What ya gonna do with that?” Jensen asks, leaning back on his forearms.

“Nothing,” Jared’s eyes glitter with sensual mischief.

“Not sure I believe you,” Jensen grins. 

He peels the silver paper from around the neck of the champagne bottle and works the cork gently from the neck. The cork pops and a little foam sprays out before Jared closes his mouth around the bottle.

Jensen feels his heartbeat spike and he swallows thickly, watching the long elegant line of Jared’s throat and his Adam’s apple move as he drinks the champagne.

“Want some?” Jared asks.

“I…uhhh,” Jensen replies stupidly. 

Jared grins, upends the bottle, and pours a measure into his mouth. Then, he bends over Jensen passing the bubbly wine into Jensen’s mouth with a kiss.

“ _Best_ way to drink champagne,” Jensen says, licking his lips as Jared pulls back. 

“We’ll get back to it, but I wanna have a little fun first.” He plunks the bottle back into the ice bucket. 

“Oh God,” Jensen sighs. Jared’s idea of fun is often one extreme or the other, extreme violence or extremely sexual. Since Jared would never hurt Jensen—at least not in a way Jensen didn’t want—he can deduce he is in for a hell of a time.

Jared gently pushes Jensen to lay back down. He plucks an ice cube from the bucket and circles a nipple with the cube.

“How’s that feel, Jense?”

“Mmmm,” Jensen moans, sighs, and arches his back.

“How ‘bout this?” Jared winks, pops the ice cube in his mouth before latching onto a nipple. 

“Ah! Oooh!” Jensen exclaims. He should never underestimate Jared’s creativity when it came to making love. 

From one nipple to the other Jared moves, alternating with a piece of ice in his mouth, or circling the other nipple with a cube. When Jared stops the exquisite icy torture of his nipples, Jensen has leaked a puddle of precum on his belly and he’s panting, needy, and aching. 

“Jare,” he pleads.

Jared’s grin is wicked and feral. He grabs the champagne from the bucket and takes a swig. He hovers over Jensen. Jensen arches his neck, and opens his mouth, expecting Jared to open his and let the wine flow from his mouth into Jensen’s. Instead, Jared lets the alcohol flow onto Jensen’s chest, and bends to lap it up with gentle swipes of his tongue. 

“Doesn’t hurt, does it?” Jared asks so close to his ear, voice a warm husk.

“No,” Jensen emphatically shakes his head. “No. Please. More.” 

Jared does it again, pours cold champagne along Jensen’s chest and laps it up with his tongue, gradually moving lower and lower. Color floods Jensen’s face and he tries not to squirm or move away when Jared pays attention to his soft middle; kissing, caressing. Jared, always able to read Jensen’s mind, gives him a hard glare, and pours champagne into his navel and licks it out. Jared worships his little belly and Jensen revels in it, feeling like the sexiest man in the world Jared believes him to be. 

“Oh, Jared,” Jensen sighs out and runs his fingers through Jared’s short hair. He squeezes his eyes shut feeling dangerously close to tears. He knows he will never again resent his softer middle, nor stress about not having Jared’s washboard abs. He’s not built like Jared, doesn’t have his metabolism and that’s okay. Jared has and always will accept him as he is and Jensen should really do the same.

Periodically, Jared will take a swig from the bottle and give Jensen a drink through a deep and dirty kiss. Jensen doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or Jared that has him feeling so floaty or if he’s just intoxicated with Jared and making love again.

Jared loves lower, hand closing around Jensen’s aching cock. “Fucking gorgeous cock,” Jared husks, gripping the base and painting his lips with the clear fluid leaking from Jensen’s slit. “Tastes as good as it looks,” Jared husks against the head making Jensen moan and his hips jerk. Jared pours a stream of the champagne over Jensen’s erection. 

“Oh! Oh, God!” The shock of the coolness is only momentary before Jared is sucking him deep into his mouth. Jensen bucks his hips, hands grasping for Jared’s hair, it hits him that Jared’s hair is so short now, but still enough left on top to curl his fingers in. 

Jared pulls off long and slow with an obscene pop, Jensen whimpers in frustration. He wants that smirking mouth around his cock. Jared’s fingers are digging through the ice before plucking a cube and putting it into his mouth. He pours a generous measure of the champagne over Jensen’s cock and balls again. 

“Jare-Jared,” Jensen cries out as the silky cold cavern of Jared’s mouth envelopes his hot erection again. He screams and his fingers tighten in Jared’s hair. Oh god it’s so much it’s too much. It’s delicious beyond words and pleasure from the switching sensations of cold and warmth. Jared pours more champagne over Jensen’s balls and sucks first one then the other into his mouth. 

“Yes, Jared, Yes, yes.” Jensen writhes bucks his hips but whines helplessly as Jared pulls off. 

“You know, this is an especially good vintage. It pairs well with cock.” He arches a brow and his grin is wickedly sinful. “Think it goes equally good with ass?”

Jensen exhales, flushes. He is so far beyond knowing how to be sexy. He eagerly turns over onto his stomach and arches his hips, presenting his ass to Jared. “Couldn’t hurt to try?”

Jensen shivers as Jared pours champagne over his ass and dives in. Jared _loves_ rimming, goes at it like it’s his job. He can and would willingly do it for hours and oh sweet fucking Christ. He licks, kisses, nibbles and sucks at Jensen’s hole, varying the speed, direction; every sensation designed to drive Jensen wild. He feels the tip of Jared’s tongue penetrate him and he whines, clutches the sheets, and rocks his hips back.

“Your cock! Your cock! I want your cock, Jared! Please!” Jensen cries out, feeling on the edge of orgasm just from Jared’s dirty enthusiastic rimming.

Jared gives a final long lick from Jensen’s perineum to his tailbone before stopping. Jensen flops over onto his back. He rests his feet flat on the mattress and spreads his legs like a complete needy slut but he does not fucking care. 

“Eager, baby.” Jared smirks. “I know you’ve missed my cock, but what about the rest of me?” Jared shakes the champagne bottle, thumb over the top. A second later he sprays what’s left all over his chest.

Jensen’s pulse races and his mouth falls open as the champagne races down Jared’s chest in tantalizing rivulets. Jensen fucking _tackles_ Jared back onto the bed. 

“Rawr!” Jared says around a laugh. His laugh turns into as gasp as Jensen laps up the alcohol. 

His hands roam over the dips and valleys of Jared’s sculpted torso, followed by his lips and tongue, moving lower. “I take back what I said before,” Jensen says. “ _This_ is the best way to drink champagne.”

He reaches Jared’s cock, so thick, so hard, for him, and inwardly trembles. Six days isn’t long at all in the grand scheme of things, but it feels like an eon since he had this, tasted this, and he is a fucking fiend for it. He sucks Jared deep into his mouth, going at it hard and fast, gagging and choking around Jared’s thick length. 

“Aww, fuck, Jense,” Jared sighs, petting Jensen’s head, not pushing or guiding, just letting Jensen have his way.

Jensen goes at it with no skill, no finesse, not really even thinking about pleasuring Jared, just hungry for cock in his mouth, and soon; his ass. Jensen’s moaning and breathing hard through his nose. Its sloppy, wet, and messy; precum and spit leak from the corners of Jensen’s mouth and down his chin. Jared sighs and moans, and rocks his hips, gently fucking Jensen’s greedy mouth. He pulls off Jared’s cock with a pop, his lips numb and jaw a little achy. His eyes snap to Jared’s big balls and Jensen dives back down to lavish them with all the attention they deserve. He licks, sucks, and kisses, each one, burying his nose in them, inhaling Jared’s salty musky scent, relearning every intimate detail of the man he loves. Worshipping Jared’s beautiful cock and balls is sexy, and intoxicating, but it’s not enough. Won’t be enough until he has Jared buried deep inside him. 

He pulls back, gazes down at Jared, there is a flush creeping down from his cheeks and neck to his chest, and his eyes are heavy lidded with pleasure, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “There’s lube out here, right?” Jensen asks.

Jared reaches under a pillow and pulls out a bottle. “How bout, you keep suckin’ my cock and I play with your cute ass?”

Jensen’s eyes flutter closed and he sighs. He moves around, positions his knees on either side of Jared’s head, lowers his ass over Jared’s face, and goes back to sucking his cock, not fast or hard, but slow lazy licks and gentle sucks, taking his time now, savoring the weight on his tongue and taste. 

Jared spreads Jensen’s ass wide and goes back to rimming him, little teasing licks with the tip of his tongue, and probing at his hole with a slippery finger He pulls off Jared’s cock to moan and buck back, riding Jared’s face and tongue. 

Jared’s fingers grip Jensen’s hips tight to keep him from moving. “‘M cock’s getting cold. Keep it warm while I open you up, Jense,” Jared says, breath caressing Jensen’s spit-slicked hole.

“Yes, Sir,” Jensen says. The honorific falls from Jensen’s lips although they are not currently engaging in a power exchange. He bends back over and leisurely sucks and laps Jared’s cock, closing his eyes and drifting in pleasure the way dandelion fluff drifts on a breeze. 

Jared covers Jensen’s hole with his wide mouth, lapping and licking, getting him good and wet. He hears the click of the lube bottle opening, then feels a little pinch and sting when Jared slips a finger inside him, but it fades as Jared works him slow and easy, one finger, then a little more stretch and sting as he works in two, then three. It’s so good, but not enough, not nearly enough when he considers the length and girth of what’s in his hand and mouth. He can feel its heat and the very pulse of Jared’s blood through the thin skin. He traces the thick veins that criss cross the length before taking the head back into his mouth to lap up the clear nectar leaking from the tip. 

They are both on the same wavelength, slowing it down, taking it easy. There is no need for dirty talk, they are saying everything they need with sighs and moans. Jensen’s cock is heavy and his balls ache but its sweet, he knows the climax he’ll be rewarded with in the end will be intense.

He doesn’t know how long they go on, but he whimper and whines when Jared ceases playing with his ass.

“Pretty eager hole all slick and open for me,” Jared sighs, Jensen can feel Jared’s fingertips teasing around his rim. “How do you want it, Jense?” Jared asks voice a soft sexy rumble, breath fanning across Jensen’s wet open hole. 

Jensen moves, hard cock bobbing as he does, he grabs the ice bucket and tosses it across the beach, and covers Jared’s body with his own. He moans and shudders when their hard cocks brush. Jared groans and grabs Jensen’s ass, undulating his hips to rub their hard lengths together. Jensen brushes his lips, swollen and a little numb from the extended blow job, across Jared’s mouth in the barest hint of a kiss. “I want your big gorgeous body covering mine, my legs around your hips, and you buried deep inside me.” 

Jared, fast as a lightning strike, flips them, so Jensen is flat on his back and Jared atop him, saucy little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He gazes at Jensen, and the smirk evaporates, eyes boring deep into Jensen’s. “You are the love of my life, Jensen Ackles.”

Whatever response Jensen was going to make dies on his lips as Jared surges into him with one long smooth stroke, his body opening to let Jared inside the way it always has. Jensen sighs, arches up, moans, feeling as if the missing piece has slotted back into place. Jared has always been his missing piece. Jared makes him whole.

Jared gazes down at him. “Missed you, Jense, missed this,” Jared whispers between breath-stealing kisses. “Hate that I couldn’t touch you without hurting you. Never wanna hurt you.” His hips start to work, slow easy thrusts; in and out, in and out.

“I know, babe,” He runs his fingers through Jared’s hair, and brings his mouth close to his. He bites his bottom lip. “You’re not hurting me now; you’re making me feel _incredible_.” 

Jensen winds his legs around Jared’s hips, caressing Jared’s body, arms, back, and chest with roaming hands before winding his arms about Jared’s neck. Slow rolls of his hips, cock gliding smoothly in and out, rubbing over his prostate, the pleasure building and building at a steady pace, neither doing anything to make it boil over. They can take their time. They’ll get there. 

The easy languid pace ratchets Jensen’s arousal higher. It’s divine and exquisite, but he wants more. He wants hard and rough. It’s been so long and now that he has Jared inside him he just wants it rough, the way he always does, the way he hungers for it. Satisfying a need, an ache, in him that is always there.

“Harder, Jared, please. Harder,” Jensen gasps, squeezing his thighs around Jared’s hips the way an experienced horseman would before urging his steed to a run.

That feral grin tugs Jared’s lips and in his eyes Jensen sees his own need mirrored there. Slow and sweet may work for other people, but not them, not even in this romantic place and time. That’s not who they are. Jared is a beast in bed and Jensen is a needy bastard. Like every other aspect of their life, Jensen controls and contains the beast in Jared, but now all he wants to do is let him out. 

“Fuck me, Jared. Fuck me like I need it, like you want it! Now!”

Jared growls, lips pull back in a sneering snarl. Jensen grips the brass bars of the headboard, hanging on as Jared slams into him and sets a brutal pace. His eyes roll back in his head and his mouth falls open on high gasping cries as Jared pegs his prostate on every single brutal push inside. 

Yes, oh, yes, this, _this_ is exactly what he’s craved, what he’s needed, what satisfies him, what he could never ask for or find with any other partner. 

“Hard, Jared! I said I wanted it _hard_! I can barely feel you!”Jensen goads. 

“I’m gonna make you regret that, baby,” Jared growls, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts, slamming into him hard enough to rattle Jensen’s teeth. The bed rocks and squeaks in protest of the rough treatment.

“Oh! Oh, God!” Jensen cries. He has no doubt he will be feeling this for _days_. 

Perfect.

“Ch-cho-choke me, Jared!” Jensen pleads around a gasping moan. 

Jared’s eyes flash, a shadow of the monster in him. His big hands close around Jensen’s throat and cut off his air.

_Yes! Yes! Dear, God, yes!_

So much like the night Jared proposed to him, so much their first time together two decades ago, when Jensen hadn’t been completely sure Jared wouldn’t just choke the life out of him and take over as head of the Ackles Organization. Now, he knows that would never have happened. But what he does know is the lack of air, giving up total control to Jared over his very life, makes him come harder than he normally does.

He is so fucking close. His heart thunders in his chest like a racehorse. He struggles to breathe as his vision goes dim. Jared lets up the pressure on his throat just enough for him to suck in ragged breath before squeezing hard again and cutting off his air supply. Dark spots dance before his eyes. He releases the hold on the brass headboard to clutch at Jared’s shoulders, fingers digging in so hard he leaves behind little crescent marks.

He writhes, fighting for air, as his vision goes still darker. He doesn’t panic, his mind goes still and quiet the way it always does like this. The crashing of the waves fades, the creak of the bed fades. His eyes flutter shut, his mouth works, trying to push out one word: please.

_Please. I’m so close. Get me there, Jared._

Jared’s hands pull away from his throat and one grips his cock and strokes him hard and fast in rhythm to his punishing thrusts. His other hand hikes up Jensen’s right leg, resting his heel on one broad shoulder, allowing his cock to push in just a little deeper.

Jensen sucks in air, white spots dance before his eyes before he’s squeezing them shut, and raking his nails down Jared’s sweat-slick back. He comes, long and hard, cock shoots thick hot lines of jizz all over his and Jared’s chests, balls emptying everything they have saved up. He howls out his pleasure. It goes on and on and it _hurts_ but feels exquisite, as close to Nirvana as anyone could ever hope to come while still Earthbound. 

Jensen is limp as over-boiled spaghetti as Jared’s thrusts lose their rhythm. He works those hips with mindless abandon. “Come, Jare. Give it t’me,” Jensen pants out.

One, two, three more brutal thrusts before Jared stills, and comes with a shout of, “JENSE!” 

Jared drops down on top of him, both breathing hard and still jerking with the aftershocks of their powerful orgasms. 

“You okay, Jense?” Jared asks, beginning to nuzzle and nibble at Jensen’s neck. 

Jensen arches his neck to give Jared more room. “Mmmm,” Jensen exhales. “Fanfuckingtastic.” His voice is a little hoarse from sucking Jared and screaming during sex.

“‘Member what I promised you I’d do? How I’d eat my cum out of your ass and feed it back to you?”

Lord in Heaven. Jensen shudders. For twenty years, one thing about Jared has always proven true: he _never_ breaks a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never promise anything when it comes to writing, but I think there is one more fic in me with these characters. Stay tuned!


End file.
